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 Cyprus and from New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alison Limerick to the rap 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
One Last Wish,
Visage,
Spoonie Gee,
The Pop Group,
Delta 5,
The Doobie Brothers,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Crooked Eye,
Little Man,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Sheep,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bush Tetras,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Tremeloes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nation of Ulysses,
T.S.O.L.,
OOIOO,
Peter and Kerry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barry Ungar,
Derrick May,
Ohio Players,
Liliput,
John Cale,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television Personalities,
June of 44,
Absolute Body Control,
Pantaleimon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Minutemen,
R.M.O.,
Popol Vuh,
the Swans,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Fuzztones,
Sugar Minott,
Marmalade,
Idris Muhammad,
Ossler,
Second Layer,
Kerri Chandler,
Arthur Verocai,
Man Eating Sloth,
Morten Harket,
June Days,
Gil Scott Heron,
D'Angelo,
The Martian,
David McCallum,
The Remains,
The Gun Club,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.