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 Liberia and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Moby Grape to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Reagan Youth,
Pussy Galore,
Cybotron,
Arthur Verocai,
X-102,
Suburban Knight,
FM Einheit,
Faust,
Neil Young,
Gabor Szabo,
Josef K,
Iggy Pop,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mo-Dettes,
Hot Snakes,
Schoolly D,
Public Enemy,
Anakelly,
The Cowsills,
The Sound,
Goldenarms,
The Skatalites,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Donny Hathaway,
Harmonia,
Procol Harum,
Parry Music,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Patti Smith,
The Dead C,
Rod Modell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jawbox,
Deepchord,
Angry Samoans,
Audionom,
Sonic Youth,
The Slackers,
Amon Düül,
Howard Jones,
The Fugs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blancmange,
Ice-T,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
T. Rex,
Marine Girls,
Mr. Review,
Flamin' Groovies,
Underground Resistance,
June Days,
Scion,
Prince Buster,
Robert Hood,
Robert Wyatt,
The Moleskins,
Harry Pussy,
Pylon,
Godley & Creme,
In Retrospect,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.