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 Brazil and from Bremen.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
June Days,
Scratch Acid,
New Age Steppers,
EPMD,
Avey Tare,
Rakim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
a-ha,
Fear,
Zero Boys,
Intrusion,
A Certain Ratio,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti,
Wally Richardson,
The Last Poets,
Patti Smith,
Sonic Youth,
Piero Umiliani,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fall,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Sheep,
Oblivians,
Brand Nubian,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joyce Sims,
The Residents,
Yaz,
Alice Coltrane,
Hot Snakes,
Lindisfarne,
Junior Murvin,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tres Demented,
Lungfish,
Erasure,
Pylon,
Robert Hood,
The Gap Band,
Crime,
The Raincoats,
Fluxion,
Organ,
Archie Shepp,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arcadia,
Buzzcocks,
The Zeros,
Josef K,
Chris Corsano,
Radio Birdman,
John Coltrane,
Nico,
Ohio Players,
Bronski Beat,
Vladislav Delay,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.