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 Ivory Coast and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 E-Dancer to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Tears for Fears,
Swell Maps,
John Holt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lou Christie,
Patti Smith,
Roxy Music,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Supertramp,
Skaos,
Ossler,
Tom Boy,
Bauhaus,
Jacques Brel,
Arcadia,
Sonic Youth,
Archie Shepp,
Alphaville,
Eve St. Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
Dennis Brown,
The Walker Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Toni Rubio,
The Residents,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deepchord,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aural Exciters,
Newcleus,
The Count Five,
Cal Tjader,
Niagra,
Scott Walker,
The Remains,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Sound,
Bill Wells,
Sun City Girls,
Model 500,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Music Machine,
Sällskapet,
JFA,
Terry Callier,
Gang of Four,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Avey Tare,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fluxion,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Sheep,
Sight & Sound,
Todd Rundgren,
Lindisfarne,
Radiopuhelimet,
Talk Talk,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rites of Spring,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Wasted Youth,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.