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 Austria and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gastr Del Sol to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Sixth Finger,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Five Americans,
Scratch Acid,
Television Personalities,
Reagan Youth,
Funky Four + One,
The Busters,
Monks,
Camberwell Now,
Clear Light,
Barrington Levy,
The Cure,
Soft Machine,
Organ,
The Gap Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
CMW,
Matthew Halsall,
The Sound,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Groovy Waters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
This Heat,
The Motions,
Babytalk,
Joe Smooth,
The Offenders,
Spoonie Gee,
Don Cherry,
Arthur Verocai,
Suburban Knight,
Young Marble Giants,
Hot Snakes,
Los Fastidios,
The Cowsills,
Goldenarms,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Sonics,
The Slits,
Deakin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
Lalann,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bad Manners,
Crispian St. Peters,
Qualms,
Unwound,
Shoche,
Crime,
Kevin Saunderson,
Curtis Mayfield,
Graham Central Station,
Drive Like Jehu,
Slick Rick,
Lou Reed,
UT,
Darondo,
The Toasters,
Nas,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.