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 Kazakhstan and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Steve Hackett to the rock 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
X-101,
John Cale,
These Immortal Souls,
DJ Style,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nico,
The Raincoats,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
EPMD,
Mantronix,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stereo Dub,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dave Gahan,
Simply Red,
The Detroit Cobras,
T. Rex,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Stooges,
Royal Trux,
Dennis Brown,
Make Up,
Soft Cell,
Bob Dylan,
Suicide,
Das Ding,
Tears for Fears,
The Remains,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Suburban Knight,
Henry Cow,
Sarah Menescal,
Ronan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Radio Birdman,
The Golliwogs,
KRS-One,
the Association,
Barclay James Harvest,
ABBA,
The Associates,
Black Flag,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rakim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Soul II Soul,
Talk Talk,
Intrusion,
the Slits,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Hood,
Girls At Our Best!,
Erykah Badu,
Cameo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spoonie Gee,
Average White Band,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.