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 Sudan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gastr Del Sol to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Robert Hood,
Amazonics,
Porter Ricks,
Thee Headcoats,
The Star Department,
Zero Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Derrick Morgan,
Stereo Dub,
Hardrive,
Neu!,
LL Cool J,
Sonic Youth,
Marc Almond,
Icehouse,
The Toasters,
The Skatalites,
Aloha Tigers,
Eve St. Jones,
Alphaville,
Pantytec,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Laurel Aitken,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dead Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Henry Cow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tommy Roe,
Ohio Players,
Aural Exciters,
Shuggie Otis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Junior Murvin,
Bang On A Can,
Yusef Lateef,
Symarip,
The Zeros,
Sugar Minott,
The Blackbyrds,
The Monks,
Byron Stingily,
Agent Orange,
Khruangbin,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Walker Brothers,
Schoolly D,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Chris & Cosey,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bob Dylan,
B.T. Express,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Harmonia,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.