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 Africa and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 Procol Harum to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
The Searchers,
Monks,
Bad Manners,
Rod Modell,
Soul II Soul,
Gang Green,
Depeche Mode,
The Kinks,
Mission of Burma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Liliput,
Shoche,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bob Dylan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warren Ellis,
MDC,
Glenn Branca,
Eddi Front,
Eli Mardock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
New York Dolls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Normal,
Cymande,
Steve Hackett,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Yazoo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bill Near,
Quando Quango,
Crime,
Kerri Chandler,
The Walker Brothers,
Flash Fearless,
Kenny Larkin,
Dual Sessions,
Livin' Joy,
One Last Wish,
Jeff Mills,
Lucky Dragons,
New Age Steppers,
Rekid,
Magazine,
The Misunderstood,
Jeru the Damaja,
DJ Sneak,
a-ha,
Desert Stars,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sixth Finger,
FM Einheit,
Nils Olav,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.