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 Sweden and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe 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 Scan 7 to the electroclash 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Eve St. Jones,
Hoover,
Rites of Spring,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
ABBA,
The Move,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rufus Thomas,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
L. Decosne,
Niagra,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Isaac Hayes,
Hasil Adkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Cowsills,
Angry Samoans,
Fad Gadget,
The Last Poets,
Josef K,
The Invisible,
Circle Jerks,
Harry Pussy,
Accadde A,
Nick Fraelich,
The Dirtbombs,
The Black Dice,
Groovy Waters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Spoonie Gee,
Boogie Down Productions,
Iggy Pop,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Traffic Nightmare,
A Certain Ratio,
Gang of Four,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Das Ding,
Animal Collective,
The Wake,
David Axelrod,
R.M.O.,
Porter Ricks,
The Sonics,
Thompson Twins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Near,
Eddi Front,
These Immortal Souls,
The Young Rascals,
CMW,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott Heron,
Surgeon,
Nik Kershaw,
Subhumans,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.