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 Papua New Guinea and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gil Scott Heron 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Marine Girls,
Maleditus Sound,
Gabor Szabo,
Eddi Front,
Interpol,
Ronnie Foster,
Nils Olav,
DJ Style,
Morten Harket,
David Axelrod,
Patti Smith,
Minny Pops,
Graham Central Station,
Vainqueur,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
KRS-One,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
OOIOO,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yazoo,
Grey Daturas,
David Bowie,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lalann,
Motorama,
Ronan,
Faraquet,
The Real Kids,
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cramps,
Joey Negro,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobby Byrd,
Jandek,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pantytec,
The Searchers,
Bob Dylan,
Kaleidoscope,
Minnie Riperton,
The Victims,
Schoolly D,
Royal Trux,
Ice-T,
Essential Logic,
China Crisis,
the Association,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pulsallama,
Section 25,
Pere Ubu,
Gang Starr,
Audionom,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.