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 Greece and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Spandau Ballet to the crunk 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Supertramp,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Morten Harket,
Absolute Body Control,
Shoche,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Funkadelic,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Terry,
Fat Boys,
Dave Gahan,
Thompson Twins,
The Black Dice,
Bronski Beat,
Darondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Faraquet,
Sällskapet,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Avey Tare,
Warsaw,
Duran Duran,
Massinfluence,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Siglo XX,
Nils Olav,
The Gladiators,
The Mummies,
Moby Grape,
Anthony Braxton,
The J.B.'s,
Leonard Cohen,
New York Dolls,
Steve Hackett,
The Modern Lovers,
Black Pus,
Spoonie Gee,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Unrelated Segments,
Roxy Music,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
Eric Dolphy,
Monolake,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dark Day,
Niagra,
Boz Scaggs,
The Smiths,
Johnny Clarke,
Bush Tetras,
H. Thieme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tears for Fears,
Hot Snakes,
The Electric Prunes,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.