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 Guatemala and from Shanghai.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar 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 Eric Dolphy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
China Crisis,
Ultra Naté,
Bronski Beat,
Sarah Menescal,
The Fuzztones,
Terry Callier,
Monks,
The Cure,
David Bowie,
The Invisible,
World's Most,
Niagra,
Hot Snakes,
The Litter,
Lungfish,
Monolake,
The Skatalites,
Radio Birdman,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott Heron,
Simply Red,
R.M.O.,
Joe Finger,
The Five Americans,
Grauzone,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
The Evens,
Oblivians,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Skriet,
Qualms,
Amon Düül,
Icehouse,
Amazonics,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Masters at Work,
Robert Hood,
The Busters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Erykah Badu,
Altered Images,
Al Stewart,
Fad Gadget,
Barry Ungar,
Skaos,
Tropical Tobacco,
Outsiders,
Nas,
Yazoo,
Althea and Donna,
DJ Style,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Happenings,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sister Nancy,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.