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 Sri Lanka and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 Reuben Wilson to the dance 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Vainqueur,
Sugar Minott,
The Victims,
Max Romeo,
Michelle Simonal,
Warsaw,
Slick Rick,
Aaron Thompson,
Skriet,
The Barracudas,
Grauzone,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Gories,
Visage,
Derrick May,
Marine Girls,
Nik Kershaw,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Chrome,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pylon,
Outsiders,
Rekid,
Mark Hollis,
Section 25,
Jerry's Kids,
Rites of Spring,
David Bowie,
Harmonia,
Rod Modell,
The Human League,
The Misunderstood,
Urselle,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wolf Eyes,
Big Daddy Kane,
ABC,
Scrapy,
EPMD,
Smog,
Tres Demented,
The Remains,
Amon Düül,
The Gap Band,
Sister Nancy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Althea and Donna,
Monks,
Black Sheep,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bluetip,
Unrelated Segments,
Malaria!,
Camouflage,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.