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 Tunisia and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kerrie Biddell to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Joe Smooth,
The Gap Band,
Spoonie Gee,
The Tremeloes,
Excepter,
Joey Negro,
Can,
Max Romeo,
the Human League,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Wyatt,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sound Behaviour,
Toni Rubio,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Susan Cadogan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kenny Larkin,
Ohio Players,
Tom Boy,
Roy Ayers,
Andrew Hill,
Desert Stars,
Wings,
Piero Umiliani,
Juan Atkins,
Aswad,
Subhumans,
Crash Course in Science,
The New Christs,
Liliput,
Mars,
The Velvet Underground,
Terry Callier,
Newcleus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Isaac Hayes,
Tears for Fears,
Brick,
Janne Schatter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
10cc,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Selecter,
Fela Kuti,
The Saints,
Fear,
Pussy Galore,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare,
Frankie Knuckles,
Country Teasers,
Jawbox,
Los Fastidios,
Wally Richardson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quadrant,
Negative Approach,
Sun City Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.