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 Bahrain and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Gun Club,
Franke,
Colin Newman,
Absolute Body Control,
Cymande,
Morten Harket,
Can,
Yellowson,
Silicon Teens,
The United States of America,
Tres Demented,
Faraquet,
Minor Threat,
The Mojo Men,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cheater Slicks,
The Slits,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Funkadelic,
Camouflage,
Von Mondo,
Ronan,
Neu!,
Sound Behaviour,
Eric Dolphy,
Jawbox,
Dave Gahan,
Bang On A Can,
Metal Thangz,
Lakeside,
Electric Prunes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mo-Dettes,
Todd Terry,
The Leaves,
Minutemen,
Moby Grape,
Gerry Rafferty,
Suburban Knight,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jesper Dahlback,
Deepchord,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
AZ,
The New Christs,
Qualms,
Black Bananas,
Alphaville,
Bauhaus,
Youth Brigade,
Barbara Tucker,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Index,
Grandmaster Flash,
Don Cherry,
Trumans Water,
James White and The Blacks,
Harmonia,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Moody Blues,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.