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 Colombia and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Grass Roots to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Loose Ends,
Brand Nubian,
Davy DMX,
June of 44,
In Retrospect,
Zapp,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
ABBA,
Bluetip,
Q and Not U,
Aloha Tigers,
Pulsallama,
Bronski Beat,
Average White Band,
Quando Quango,
Brothers Johnson,
Sex Pistols,
Sugar Minott,
Matthew Halsall,
X-102,
Bobby Sherman,
Janne Schatter,
Saccharine Trust,
Pere Ubu,
Lalann,
Young Marble Giants,
The American Breed,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
Connie Case,
Sällskapet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Infiniti,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Yazoo,
Depeche Mode,
La Düsseldorf,
Yellowson,
Rod Modell,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Popol Vuh,
Crime,
Rosa Yemen,
Joyce Sims,
Television Personalities,
Brass Construction,
The Selecter,
The Star Department,
Dennis Brown,
Delta 5,
Tim Buckley,
Robert Wyatt,
Eli Mardock,
The Doobie Brothers,
Roy Ayers,
Todd Terry,
Howard Jones,
Echospace,
Sexual Harrassment,
Public Image Ltd.,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.