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 Tonga and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Blackbyrds to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Graham Central Station,
B.T. Express,
Eric Dolphy,
Pulsallama,
Freddie Wadling,
Index,
Wasted Youth,
Robert Görl,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Symarip,
Mission of Burma,
Juan Atkins,
New York Dolls,
Scientists,
Michelle Simonal,
Henry Cow,
Robert Hood,
Ohio Players,
F. McDonald,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Youth Brigade,
These Immortal Souls,
Jawbox,
Shuggie Otis,
Bang On A Can,
the Slits,
Maurizio,
The Electric Prunes,
Davy DMX,
EPMD,
Minor Threat,
The Angels of Light,
The Leaves,
the Sonics,
Cecil Taylor,
Subhumans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mr. Review,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Remains,
Ultimate Spinach,
Buzzcocks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cowsills,
Letta Mbulu,
Swell Maps,
Grauzone,
Outsiders,
Skaos,
Heaven 17,
The Fire Engines,
Spandau Ballet,
Kurtis Blow,
Marmalade,
LL Cool J,
Soft Machine,
cv313,
Reuben Wilson,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.