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 San Marino and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sparks to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Tim Buckley,
Nik Kershaw,
Heaven 17,
Negative Approach,
The Last Poets,
Joensuu 1685,
Tommy Roe,
Nils Olav,
Harry Pussy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wally Richardson,
Sarah Menescal,
The Buckinghams,
Faraquet,
The Searchers,
AZ,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Index,
Bootsy Collins,
Lou Christie,
H. Thieme,
Deadbeat,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rufus Thomas,
The Count Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Radiopuhelimet,
Shuggie Otis,
Minny Pops,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Velvet Underground,
Lalo Schifrin,
One Last Wish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Trojans,
The Tremeloes,
Silicon Teens,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Au Pairs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Quando Quango,
The Knickerbockers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Starr,
Barry Ungar,
Amazonics,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Zeros,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pharoah Sanders,
Curtis Mayfield,
Icehouse,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.