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 Tuvalu 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Jandek to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
The Red Krayola,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nico,
Little Man,
Los Fastidios,
Outsiders,
FM Einheit,
Jacques Brel,
Scrapy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Germs,
The Busters,
Robert Görl,
Babytalk,
B.T. Express,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
La Düsseldorf,
48th St. Collective,
Procol Harum,
Magma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Andrew Hill,
Loose Ends,
Delta 5,
Oneida,
Arcadia,
Sällskapet,
the Human League,
Ronan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Standells,
Skaos,
Cheater Slicks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Names,
Circle Jerks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rekid,
Duran Duran,
Flipper,
Second Layer,
Smog,
Wolf Eyes,
Organ,
DJ Sneak,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ludus,
The Black Dice,
Max Romeo,
The Techniques,
Lower 48,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeff Mills,
ABBA,
Man Eating Sloth,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Gladiators,
Thee Headcoats,
Ten City,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.