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 Dominican Republic and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Soft Machine to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tommy Roe,
The Saints,
Scientists,
Alphaville,
Freddie Wadling,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Talk Talk,
Todd Rundgren,
Sexual Harrassment,
Toni Rubio,
Bang On A Can,
Zero Boys,
David Axelrod,
Altered Images,
The Five Americans,
Public Enemy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Chris & Cosey,
The Standells,
Jandek,
Sällskapet,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Patti Smith,
The Moody Blues,
Tomorrow,
Bill Wells,
Newcleus,
Terry Callier,
Archie Shepp,
Nas,
Porter Ricks,
Mandrill,
Reagan Youth,
The Fortunes,
The Monochrome Set,
Q and Not U,
Bobby Womack,
The Birthday Party,
Swell Maps,
Man Parrish,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Shadows of Knight,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lightning Bolt,
Slick Rick,
Pere Ubu,
The Red Krayola,
Ten City,
The Busters,
Organ,
Absolute Body Control,
the Sonics,
Icehouse,
Tom Boy,
Minnie Riperton,
Jeru the Damaja,
World's Most,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.