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 Romania and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Beau Brummels 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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Outsiders,
Angry Samoans,
Rufus Thomas,
Ralphi Rosario,
U.S. Maple,
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
Scott Walker,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Icehouse,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dark Day,
The Star Department,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeff Lynne,
Babytalk,
The Neon Judgement,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lou Reed,
Crime,
Skarface,
Roy Ayers,
David McCallum,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fuzztones,
The Black Dice,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Camberwell Now,
Tim Buckley,
Black Bananas,
Young Marble Giants,
Skaos,
Archie Shepp,
The Angels of Light,
Yusef Lateef,
The Index,
Ken Boothe,
Nils Olav,
Minny Pops,
CMW,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Monks,
The Monks,
Soul II Soul,
Hoover,
Aural Exciters,
Technova,
Lebanon Hanover,
The J.B.'s,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Desert Stars,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.