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 Cambodia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Smoke to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
T.S.O.L.,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Althea and Donna,
Rod Modell,
Kenny Larkin,
Absolute Body Control,
Barbara Tucker,
Skarface,
The Monks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Yazoo,
Depeche Mode,
X-102,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Cowsills,
Johnny Clarke,
Eden Ahbez,
Hot Snakes,
Lou Reed,
Tim Buckley,
kango's stein massive,
Bang On A Can,
James White and The Blacks,
Severed Heads,
Delta 5,
Lindisfarne,
T. Rex,
Blossom Toes,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Archie Shepp,
the Germs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jawbox,
Ronnie Foster,
Drive Like Jehu,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Hill,
MC5,
Magazine,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Black Moon,
KRS-One,
Symarip,
Yaz,
Black Bananas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roger Hodgson,
The Zeros,
Rakim,
Babytalk,
Suicide,
Peter & Gordon,
X-Ray Spex,
Barry Ungar,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.