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 Croatia and from London.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crispian St. Peters,
Vladislav Delay,
Bronski Beat,
Robert Hood,
Altered Images,
X-101,
Chris & Cosey,
Warsaw,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jandek,
Eddi Front,
The Offenders,
Janne Schatter,
Davy DMX,
Gang Starr,
The Happenings,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABC,
John Coltrane,
Public Enemy,
Eric Copeland,
The Alarm Clocks,
Surgeon,
Neil Young,
Michelle Simonal,
Slave,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Buzzcocks,
New York Dolls,
Sarah Menescal,
E-Dancer,
The Motions,
World's Most,
Jeru the Damaja,
New Age Steppers,
Aswad,
The Buckinghams,
Sister Nancy,
cv313,
Procol Harum,
Eve St. Jones,
Ornette Coleman,
Cameo,
Donald Byrd,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
Jesper Dahlback,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thee Headcoats,
the Germs,
Desert Stars,
Wolf Eyes,
Fugazi,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jacques Brel,
Magazine,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.