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 Singapore and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Oneida,
The Real Kids,
Alton Ellis,
The Cowsills,
Dual Sessions,
A Certain Ratio,
Joe Smooth,
Slick Rick,
Robert Hood,
The Happenings,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The J.B.'s,
Sparks,
Symarip,
Los Fastidios,
John Holt,
Ludus,
Crooked Eye,
Hoover,
Prince Buster,
Kayak,
Chris & Cosey,
Warren Ellis,
Hashim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scott Walker,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nils Olav,
The Pretty Things,
The Stooges,
Dark Day,
The Fortunes,
Toni Rubio,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kerrie Biddell,
Inner City,
The Doors,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Arthur Verocai,
Swell Maps,
The Litter,
Clear Light,
Mission of Burma,
Hot Snakes,
Minor Threat,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ossler,
The Zeros,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Sherman,
Lakeside,
Grandmaster Flash,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nick Fraelich,
Fear,
Man Parrish,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fad Gadget,
Gang of Four,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.