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 Cape Verde 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gil Scott Heron to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Essential Logic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Görl,
Massinfluence,
Rites of Spring,
Mo-Dettes,
Quantec,
Lyres,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mission of Burma,
Funky Four + One,
Godley & Creme,
Black Sheep,
Gang of Four,
Henry Cow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Tremeloes,
The Slits,
Severed Heads,
June Days,
The Selecter,
The Associates,
Grauzone,
The Modern Lovers,
Fad Gadget,
Symarip,
The Evens,
Brick,
June of 44,
The Martian,
Todd Terry,
Angry Samoans,
the Normal,
The Last Poets,
Absolute Body Control,
Sound Behaviour,
The Black Dice,
Mandrill,
F. McDonald,
Shoche,
Porter Ricks,
Quando Quango,
The Fall,
Lou Christie,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Monochrome Set,
Moss Icon,
Deepchord,
The Gun Club,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eric Dolphy,
Radio Birdman,
David McCallum,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Dead C,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tubeway Army,
Susan Cadogan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.