Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Argentina and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Litter to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Unwound,
Surgeon,
Black Moon,
Model 500,
X-102,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cybotron,
Jeff Lynne,
Bill Wells,
Sun Ra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Boredoms,
Eli Mardock,
Yellowson,
Donald Byrd,
Howard Jones,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Josef K,
The Fire Engines,
Mad Mike,
Drexciya,
Pantytec,
Goldenarms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mr. Review,
Todd Terry,
a-ha,
Amazonics,
Black Pus,
Albert Ayler,
Cluster,
The Pop Group,
Derrick May,
Wings,
Drive Like Jehu,
DNA,
The Gladiators,
Niagra,
The Black Dice,
Delon & Dalcan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Agitation Free,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ken Boothe,
Excepter,
Scan 7,
Boogie Down Productions,
Yazoo,
Heaven 17,
Soft Machine,
The Smoke,
Skarface,
Cal Tjader,
Tres Demented,
The Birthday Party,
The Trojans,
The Vogues,
The Mummies,
Sällskapet,
The Motions,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.