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 Panama and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Ken Boothe to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
Bob Dylan,
Cecil Taylor,
Dead Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Erasure,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
China Crisis,
Lungfish,
Peter & Gordon,
John Cale,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
cv313,
8 Eyed Spy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cure,
Matthew Halsall,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Womack,
The Cowsills,
The Blues Magoos,
Godley & Creme,
Lou Reed,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
JFA,
Isaac Hayes,
Theoretical Girls,
Magma,
Royal Trux,
Eve St. Jones,
UT,
Japan,
Mantronix,
Public Enemy,
Quantec,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
Rakim,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Man Parrish,
Unrelated Segments,
Yaz,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scott Walker,
Au Pairs,
Amon Düül II,
Roxy Music,
The Dead C,
Yusef Lateef,
The Index,
Pylon,
Lalann,
Patti Smith,
Tim Buckley,
T.S.O.L.,
Maurizio,
Underground Resistance,
Camberwell Now,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.