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 Bremen.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Young Marble Giants to the electroclash 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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Albert Ayler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arcadia,
Archie Shepp,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Deakin,
Sugar Minott,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Durutti Column,
Roy Ayers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
D'Angelo,
Nirvana,
Simply Red,
Soft Cell,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ice-T,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cramps,
Audionom,
Boredoms,
Charles Mingus,
Los Fastidios,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Henry Cow,
John Holt,
Procol Harum,
Interpol,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
Model 500,
Scion,
Max Romeo,
Lindisfarne,
Von Mondo,
Drive Like Jehu,
CMW,
The Searchers,
DJ Style,
The Detroit Cobras,
Colin Newman,
Howard Jones,
Sun City Girls,
China Crisis,
Barclay James Harvest,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Blackbyrds,
UT,
Matthew Halsall,
Bauhaus,
Yaz,
Eric Dolphy,
Heaven 17,
Leonard Cohen,
Y Pants,
Amon Düül II,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.