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 Nicaragua and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Unrelated Segments to the grime 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 the Germs. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Trojans,
Desert Stars,
Howard Jones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Man Eating Sloth,
Prince Buster,
Livin' Joy,
Hardrive,
Easy Going,
Skaos,
Amon Düül II,
Outsiders,
Terry Callier,
Erasure,
Brand Nubian,
Parry Music,
Y Pants,
Fatback Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Doors,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Golliwogs,
Flipper,
Bobby Womack,
Suicide,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sam Rivers,
Lucky Dragons,
Kurtis Blow,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Leaves,
Marmalade,
Von Mondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Index,
DJ Sneak,
Malaria!,
MC5,
Sixth Finger,
Mad Mike,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fortunes,
CMW,
Shuggie Otis,
Minny Pops,
Connie Case,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Iggy Pop,
The Pretty Things,
Can,
Soulsonic Force,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Yaz,
Magazine,
The Shadows of Knight,
Spoonie Gee,
Kerri Chandler,
Dave Gahan,
Barbara Tucker,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.