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 Marshall Islands and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 rap 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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
U.S. Maple,
JFA,
The Knickerbockers,
Kurtis Blow,
Terry Callier,
The Moody Blues,
Chrome,
Man Parrish,
Bush Tetras,
ABBA,
Tubeway Army,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Barry Ungar,
Jeff Lynne,
La Düsseldorf,
Soft Cell,
Deakin,
The New Christs,
10cc,
the Bar-Kays,
Surgeon,
Dennis Brown,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Gun Club,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
EPMD,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Duran Duran,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
Rufus Thomas,
the Normal,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Sherman,
Glambeats Corp.,
Animal Collective,
Flamin' Groovies,
Steve Hackett,
The Monochrome Set,
Icehouse,
Public Enemy,
Oblivians,
Eden Ahbez,
the Fania All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
Amon Düül II,
a-ha,
Minny Pops,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fugs,
The Victims,
Joey Negro,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
The Saints,
the Germs,
Donald Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Whodini,
Glenn Branca,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Slits,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.