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 Angola and from London.
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 Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 The Fire Engines to the techno 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Half Japanese,
the Germs,
B.T. Express,
Henry Cow,
Tommy Roe,
Eric Copeland,
These Immortal Souls,
Buzzcocks,
Deadbeat,
The Zeros,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Neil Young,
L. Decosne,
Chrome,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Coltrane,
EPMD,
Lalann,
Wings,
The Motions,
Peter and Kerry,
Sugar Minott,
Quadrant,
Jeru the Damaja,
Nirvana,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gladiators,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Average White Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Flag,
The Busters,
The Gun Club,
The Vogues,
Cymande,
Ken Boothe,
Sex Pistols,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Anthony Braxton,
Boredoms,
Urselle,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lungfish,
the Human League,
Steve Hackett,
Camouflage,
Rod Modell,
Al Stewart,
The Searchers,
Alphaville,
Hardrive,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Five Americans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lucky Dragons,
Suburban Knight,
Qualms,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.