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 Marshall Islands and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gang of Four to the jazz 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Oneida,
Jacques Brel,
Harmonia,
the Normal,
Y Pants,
The Beau Brummels,
Zero Boys,
Maleditus Sound,
The Barracudas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jawbox,
The Saints,
Blancmange,
The Names,
The Monochrome Set,
Terry Callier,
New Age Steppers,
Desert Stars,
Model 500,
Pylon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alice Coltrane,
Agitation Free,
The Gun Club,
These Immortal Souls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Skatalites,
The Smiths,
Dual Sessions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cal Tjader,
Agent Orange,
Lalann,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scratch Acid,
Crispy Ambulance,
Easy Going,
Darondo,
Matthew Halsall,
Babytalk,
Crispian St. Peters,
Maurizio,
KRS-One,
Amon Düül II,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Music Machine,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nico,
The Slackers,
Ten City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Reagan Youth,
The Busters,
Tears for Fears,
Aaron Thompson,
Groovy Waters,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.