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 Hungary and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Glasgow and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the rhodes 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 In Retrospect to the rock 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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Godley & Creme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Sonic Youth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Con Funk Shun,
Nils Olav,
The Dead C,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Faust,
Loose Ends,
Archie Shepp,
Roger Hodgson,
Ten City,
Porter Ricks,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Angels of Light,
Basic Channel,
Kas Product,
Yaz,
These Immortal Souls,
Marc Almond,
Essential Logic,
Rotary Connection,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rod Modell,
Cal Tjader,
Flipper,
Rhythm & Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
Derrick May,
Bizarre Inc.,
Henry Cow,
The Buckinghams,
The Human League,
Crime,
Swell Maps,
Hardrive,
Carl Craig,
Eli Mardock,
Kayak,
The Music Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
Television,
Suicide,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Make Up,
Skaos,
Tommy Roe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scientists,
The Cowsills,
Nick Fraelich,
Bluetip,
James White and The Blacks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Von Mondo,
Smog,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Trumans Water,
Jeff Mills,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.