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 Luxembourg and from Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tres Demented to the funk 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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Last Poets,
Lalann,
Dual Sessions,
X-101,
Roxette,
The Skatalites,
Marmalade,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marcia Griffiths,
Excepter,
Lou Reed,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
The United States of America,
New Order,
Tom Boy,
Shoche,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fad Gadget,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pere Ubu,
Royal Trux,
Kerrie Biddell,
James White and The Blacks,
Minutemen,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nirvana,
Deakin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gichy Dan,
The Modern Lovers,
The Martian,
Rites of Spring,
Basic Channel,
Faraquet,
Khruangbin,
Mission of Burma,
Whodini,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Mummies,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Thompson Twins,
Junior Murvin,
The Grass Roots,
Das Ding,
Jacob Miller,
The Angels of Light,
Scratch Acid,
John Lydon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
World's Most,
Simply Red,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fluxion,
The Moody Blues,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sugar Minott,
Donald Byrd,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bad Manners,
Parry Music,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.