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 South Sudan and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Moleskins to the techno 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Camouflage,
PIL,
Cal Tjader,
The Sisters of Mercy,
T. Rex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ice-T,
Dennis Brown,
Pantytec,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
MDC,
Massinfluence,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The J.B.'s,
Suicide,
Angry Samoans,
Todd Terry,
Bush Tetras,
Lightning Bolt,
Visage,
Crooked Eye,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Groovy Waters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Remains,
Bobby Womack,
Marvin Gaye,
the Bar-Kays,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fortunes,
June Days,
The Kinks,
Flash Fearless,
The Walker Brothers,
Yazoo,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dawn Penn,
The Leaves,
June of 44,
Anakelly,
Oblivians,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eyeless In Gaza,
CMW,
Anthony Braxton,
Basic Channel,
Heaven 17,
Lou Christie,
Faust,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wally Richardson,
Judy Mowatt,
Harry Pussy,
Blossom Toes,
Symarip,
The Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonic Youth,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.