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 Uzbekistan and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Boredoms to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Black Bananas,
Franke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kerri Chandler,
Niagra,
Fela Kuti,
Jerry's Kids,
The Star Department,
Ponytail,
Colin Newman,
The Dave Clark Five,
Moss Icon,
David Axelrod,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Divine Comedy,
KRS-One,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Sherman,
The Walker Brothers,
Whodini,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rekid,
a-ha,
The Moody Blues,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lungfish,
Supertramp,
The Techniques,
Angry Samoans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mojo Men,
The Gladiators,
Black Flag,
Donald Byrd,
Fluxion,
Deakin,
Suburban Knight,
The Seeds,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brass Construction,
Von Mondo,
Sound Behaviour,
Hasil Adkins,
Peter and Kerry,
The Wake,
Kenny Larkin,
X-102,
Television,
Cheater Slicks,
Bad Manners,
Leonard Cohen,
Erykah Badu,
Robert Hood,
Bauhaus,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
K-Klass,
Michelle Simonal,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.