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 Guinea-Bissau and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Amazonics to the disco 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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
Gang Starr,
The American Breed,
Max Romeo,
The Mummies,
The Barracudas,
Grauzone,
JFA,
David Axelrod,
CMW,
The Monochrome Set,
Underground Resistance,
Dave Gahan,
Jeff Mills,
China Crisis,
Kerri Chandler,
The Techniques,
Don Cherry,
The Blackbyrds,
The Tremeloes,
June Days,
Terry Callier,
Amon Düül,
John Foxx,
Kas Product,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Absolute Body Control,
The Monks,
Circle Jerks,
Fear,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Maleditus Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hardrive,
Angry Samoans,
The Offenders,
The Gories,
Gregory Isaacs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Minnie Riperton,
Sparks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Anakelly,
Pantaleimon,
Magazine,
Aaron Thompson,
Royal Trux,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bob Dylan,
Mission of Burma,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blancmange,
New York Dolls,
Joensuu 1685,
Matthew Bourne,
The Slits,
Radiohead,
Darondo,
Ultra Naté,
Crash Course in Science,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.