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 Grenada and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sex Pistols to the disco 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Zero Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
Isaac Hayes,
F. McDonald,
Y Pants,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Blossom Toes,
Organ,
Procol Harum,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
David Axelrod,
Rites of Spring,
Roy Ayers,
Can,
Porter Ricks,
Marc Almond,
The Martian,
Eric Copeland,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Motorama,
Tubeway Army,
Sex Pistols,
The Barracudas,
The Wake,
Pole,
Q65,
Bluetip,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kas Product,
John Foxx,
Slave,
Dennis Brown,
Toni Rubio,
The Durutti Column,
Wally Richardson,
The Trojans,
Wings,
Buzzcocks,
Sun City Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marshall Jefferson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Walker Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Invisible,
Eve St. Jones,
Accadde A,
Essential Logic,
Faust,
Rufus Thomas,
The Skatalites,
The Music Machine,
Au Pairs,
KRS-One,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Swell Maps,
A Certain Ratio,
Royal Trux,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.