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 Jordan and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Dual Sessions to the disco 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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
The Fugs,
Heaven 17,
Supertramp,
Jacob Miller,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Knickerbockers,
Tubeway Army,
Colin Newman,
The American Breed,
Camberwell Now,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Minnie Riperton,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers,
Chris Corsano,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bronski Beat,
Spandau Ballet,
Quadrant,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Idris Muhammad,
Roger Hodgson,
The Five Americans,
The Martian,
Glenn Branca,
The Divine Comedy,
Toni Rubio,
Graham Central Station,
Steve Hackett,
The Leaves,
Accadde A,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jacques Brel,
The Techniques,
The Stooges,
Gong,
T. Rex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Connie Case,
Sight & Sound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Underground Resistance,
Joe Finger,
Lindisfarne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Basic Channel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cecil Taylor,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Unwound,
Absolute Body Control,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Beasts of Bourbon,
kango's stein massive,
Don Cherry,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.