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 Kuwait and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Brothers Johnson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Roxy Music,
Y Pants,
Toni Rubio,
The Fortunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Minnie Riperton,
Electric Prunes,
Minny Pops,
Ice-T,
Tommy Roe,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Blackbyrds,
Sun City Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Barrington Levy,
The Happenings,
Bobby Womack,
The Grass Roots,
Lightning Bolt,
Erasure,
The Pop Group,
The Real Kids,
The Mojo Men,
Yaz,
8 Eyed Spy,
U.S. Maple,
World's Most,
Soul II Soul,
Negative Approach,
Gang Starr,
Jeff Mills,
Heaven 17,
Can,
John Coltrane,
Nation of Ulysses,
48th St. Collective,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Von Mondo,
Alison Limerick,
Outsiders,
Niagra,
Kenny Larkin,
Marine Girls,
Black Pus,
Das Ding,
Pierre Henry,
Deakin,
Mantronix,
Arthur Verocai,
The Misunderstood,
Unwound,
Newcleus,
the Swans,
Excepter,
Technova,
The Toasters,
Little Man,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.