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 Liechtenstein and from Sao Paulo.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 U.S. Maple to the jazz 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hardrive,
Blake Baxter,
Ponytail,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Cale,
Skriet,
Alton Ellis,
Whodini,
June Days,
L. Decosne,
Intrusion,
Ronan,
Negative Approach,
Althea and Donna,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Arcadia,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Selecter,
Soft Cell,
Gabor Szabo,
Deadbeat,
Interpol,
Bobby Sherman,
John Foxx,
Lucky Dragons,
The Kinks,
Magazine,
Patti Smith,
Dark Day,
T. Rex,
Fear,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Depeche Mode,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mad Mike,
Zapp,
AZ,
Yusef Lateef,
The Last Poets,
The Litter,
Motorama,
Altered Images,
Television Personalities,
MDC,
Little Man,
Fugazi,
The Real Kids,
Kas Product,
The Flesh Eaters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fluxion,
The Gap Band,
Accadde A,
Mantronix,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oblivians,
Scan 7,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Laurel Aitken,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.