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 Tonga and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Amon Düül II to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Neon Judgement record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Radio Birdman,
Skaos,
Wasted Youth,
Con Funk Shun,
Deadbeat,
48th St. Collective,
Buzzcocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Flipper,
Yellowson,
James White and The Blacks,
Silicon Teens,
Todd Terry,
Bush Tetras,
Electric Prunes,
The Human League,
Andrew Hill,
X-Ray Spex,
Dead Boys,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Main Source,
The Smoke,
The Golliwogs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Suburban Knight,
Sarah Menescal,
Tears for Fears,
The Neon Judgement,
The Invisible,
The J.B.'s,
Masters at Work,
Avey Tare,
Mantronix,
Matthew Halsall,
H. Thieme,
The Young Rascals,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Young Marble Giants,
Byron Stingily,
Das Ding,
Rapeman,
Fatback Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Last Poets,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slits,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Slave,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tommy Roe,
KRS-One,
Agent Orange,
X-102,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lalann,
Massinfluence,
Henry Cow,
Iggy Pop,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.