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 Djibouti and from Houston.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 John Holt to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
the Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Standells,
Alice Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Motions,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fuzztones,
B.T. Express,
Intrusion,
Pierre Henry,
Talk Talk,
Sandy B,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fugs,
Country Teasers,
Jawbox,
Hasil Adkins,
Soft Cell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Roxette,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Spoonie Gee,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Scion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Massinfluence,
Black Flag,
David Bowie,
The Martian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sister Nancy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Lou Christie,
Infiniti,
The Cure,
Magazine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Matthew Bourne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Brass Construction,
Malaria!,
Fatback Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Beau Brummels,
Procol Harum,
Bizarre Inc.,
U.S. Maple,
Don Cherry,
Pylon,
Rhythm & Sound,
Trumans Water,
Los Fastidios,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Fania All-Stars,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.