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 Armenia and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar 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 Sound Behaviour to the rock 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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Faust,
The Cure,
Malaria!,
Bobby Womack,
The Residents,
Minutemen,
Flash Fearless,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Young Rascals,
The Toasters,
Donald Byrd,
Index,
Terry Callier,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
New Age Steppers,
Roxette,
Duran Duran,
The Index,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Leaves,
Hashim,
Piero Umiliani,
Gang Green,
Cecil Taylor,
Wasted Youth,
Freddie Wadling,
The J.B.'s,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lyres,
Judy Mowatt,
Joe Smooth,
Josef K,
Eric Copeland,
Reuben Wilson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Warsaw,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Danielle Patucci,
Nils Olav,
Babytalk,
Au Pairs,
Sandy B,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lakeside,
Aural Exciters,
Sällskapet,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Slits,
Boredoms,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Fania All-Stars,
June Days,
Roy Ayers,
B.T. Express,
R.M.O.,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
EPMD,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
One Last Wish,
Supertramp,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.