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 Singapore and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Seeds to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Swans,
Camberwell Now,
The Cramps,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sällskapet,
Roxette,
Junior Murvin,
Urselle,
Guru Guru,
The Dead C,
Davy DMX,
The Gories,
UT,
Groovy Waters,
Eve St. Jones,
Radiohead,
Josef K,
Zapp,
Zero Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harmonia,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Avey Tare,
The Fugs,
The Searchers,
Sun City Girls,
Wire,
Barrington Levy,
Maurizio,
Main Source,
Joyce Sims,
Amon Düül II,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dave Clark Five,
Warsaw,
Bootsy Collins,
Letta Mbulu,
Tres Demented,
The Divine Comedy,
The Smiths,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gichy Dan,
The Last Poets,
Von Mondo,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arthur Verocai,
Angry Samoans,
The Neon Judgement,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ornette Coleman,
the Sonics,
The Leaves,
the Bar-Kays,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.