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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Gang Dance to the crunk 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Pole,
Derrick May,
Alice Coltrane,
Main Source,
Stereo Dub,
Nas,
Lou Reed,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
H. Thieme,
Anakelly,
Barry Ungar,
Reuben Wilson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Sherman,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rufus Thomas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tim Buckley,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Techniques,
Barrington Levy,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cramps,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sex Pistols,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeff Mills,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sister Nancy,
The Skatalites,
The Slackers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swell Maps,
The Velvet Underground,
Wings,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eddi Front,
Ice-T,
Fear,
Ten City,
The Wake,
The Happenings,
Chris Corsano,
Minnie Riperton,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scott Walker,
Curtis Mayfield,
Goldenarms,
Quando Quango,
Nick Fraelich,
The New Christs,
Ponytail,
The Kinks,
Heaven 17,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.