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 Liechtenstein and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare 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 Rekid 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
The Victims,
The Happenings,
Wolf Eyes,
the Bar-Kays,
F. McDonald,
Wings,
The Mojo Men,
Fugazi,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
These Immortal Souls,
UT,
Scratch Acid,
Bluetip,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gregory Isaacs,
Slick Rick,
Andrew Hill,
Reagan Youth,
Cymande,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blues Magoos,
Bootsy Collins,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Cowsills,
The Trojans,
DNA,
Agitation Free,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Saccharine Trust,
Matthew Bourne,
David McCallum,
Alice Coltrane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Zero Boys,
Sun City Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Ultravox,
Theoretical Girls,
Bill Wells,
China Crisis,
The Dead C,
Lindisfarne,
Skarface,
Flamin' Groovies,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Anakelly,
Sixth Finger,
Yazoo,
Swans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Golliwogs,
The Sound,
Guru Guru,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Raincoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.