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 United States and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Wings to the grunge 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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic 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?
Mark Hollis,
The Leaves,
Barry Ungar,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DJ Style,
Idris Muhammad,
Peter and Kerry,
Don Cherry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Barclay James Harvest,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lucky Dragons,
The Index,
the Germs,
Mo-Dettes,
The Red Krayola,
MC5,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jimmy McGriff,
Judy Mowatt,
Rufus Thomas,
Trumans Water,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mars,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ituana,
Michelle Simonal,
The Martian,
The Invisible,
Tom Boy,
Black Pus,
Andrew Hill,
Alton Ellis,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Finger,
The Saints,
Pylon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sandy B,
Josef K,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Henry Cow,
Eden Ahbez,
Nirvana,
June of 44,
Donny Hathaway,
Ultimate Spinach,
Maurizio,
Minny Pops,
Faraquet,
Cymande,
Procol Harum,
La Düsseldorf,
The Zeros,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jandek,
Khruangbin,
The Standells,
The Tremeloes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.