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 Switzerland and from Columbus.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the punk 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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Organ,
Zapp,
Inner City,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Althea and Donna,
Liliput,
The Shadows of Knight,
Throbbing Gristle,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Monolake,
Parry Music,
Blossom Toes,
Blancmange,
Steve Hackett,
Flamin' Groovies,
Unrelated Segments,
Terry Callier,
In Retrospect,
The Durutti Column,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Niagra,
Mark Hollis,
Bill Wells,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kerri Chandler,
X-Ray Spex,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Barracudas,
Sex Pistols,
The Offenders,
Tomorrow,
Blake Baxter,
Lakeside,
Iggy Pop,
Zero Boys,
The Gladiators,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
One Last Wish,
Pussy Galore,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Association,
Erasure,
Soulsonic Force,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bizarre Inc.,
Moby Grape,
Buzzcocks,
K-Klass,
Severed Heads,
Darondo,
Eurythmics,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ludus,
The Martian,
Magma,
Essential Logic,
Jerry's Kids,
The Beau Brummels,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud.
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.