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 Solomon Islands and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 snare 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 The Grass Roots to the disco 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
The Modern Lovers,
Angry Samoans,
Television,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Half Japanese,
Alton Ellis,
Main Source,
Infiniti,
The Divine Comedy,
Metal Thangz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New York Dolls,
Audionom,
The Stooges,
Smog,
Fat Boys,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Sonics,
Brick,
Godley & Creme,
Bobby Sherman,
Harry Pussy,
The Fall,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Yazoo,
Leonard Cohen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
In Retrospect,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sex Pistols,
Matthew Bourne,
This Heat,
The Gories,
The Pop Group,
Nik Kershaw,
Grauzone,
Depeche Mode,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tubeway Army,
Moss Icon,
Al Stewart,
Sandy B,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faust,
Mr. Review,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Organ,
Magazine,
The Electric Prunes,
L. Decosne,
The Fugs,
Joensuu 1685,
The Zeros,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Symarip,
John Lydon,
Idris Muhammad,
The Durutti Column,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.