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 Belarus and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 Count Five to the rap 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
The Pop Group,
Jacques Brel,
Isaac Hayes,
Spoonie Gee,
James White and The Blacks,
Cecil Taylor,
New Order,
Country Teasers,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Count Five,
The Offenders,
The Toasters,
Sugar Minott,
Black Sheep,
The Alarm Clocks,
Index,
Minutemen,
Harry Pussy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dawn Penn,
Chris & Cosey,
The Move,
Trumans Water,
The Sonics,
Second Layer,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brass Construction,
Man Parrish,
Ralphi Rosario,
Surgeon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Max Romeo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mission of Burma,
Malaria!,
Siglo XX,
Lalo Schifrin,
X-101,
Skaos,
Lower 48,
ABC,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eve St. Jones,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Clear Light,
Ohio Players,
Lou Reed,
Fela Kuti,
The Happenings,
Tommy Roe,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Magazine,
The Standells,
Girls At Our Best!,
Soft Machine,
The Trojans,
Franke,
10cc,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.