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 Australia and from New York.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Pylon,
Albert Ayler,
Robert Wyatt,
Crime,
Loose Ends,
Country Teasers,
Sun City Girls,
Davy DMX,
A Certain Ratio,
F. McDonald,
Flamin' Groovies,
Au Pairs,
Dawn Penn,
Brass Construction,
The Index,
Cymande,
Cecil Taylor,
48th St. Collective,
Bronski Beat,
Roxette,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Flag,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rapeman,
The Leaves,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultravox,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ralphi Rosario,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ultra Naté,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Germs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Public Image Ltd.,
Electric Prunes,
Thee Headcoats,
the Soft Cell,
Lou Reed,
The Evens,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bauhaus,
Grauzone,
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Section 25,
Tim Buckley,
Isaac Hayes,
Nik Kershaw,
Interpol,
Joensuu 1685,
David Axelrod,
Lou Christie,
Skriet,
Joe Finger,
R.M.O.,
Black Sheep,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scion,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.