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 Netherlands and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Flamin' Groovies to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Sun City Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Association,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bill Near,
Thompson Twins,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
Derrick Morgan,
Unwound,
Tears for Fears,
Funkadelic,
Dave Gahan,
The Pretty Things,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David Bowie,
Jandek,
Subhumans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Max Romeo,
The Invisible,
Jawbox,
The Divine Comedy,
Minnie Riperton,
Ronan,
Gichy Dan,
Masters at Work,
Tom Boy,
Eve St. Jones,
Graham Central Station,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Supertramp,
H. Thieme,
Ten City,
Popol Vuh,
Soft Machine,
Roy Ayers,
Carl Craig,
Cluster,
Unrelated Segments,
Dennis Brown,
The Zeros,
Hasil Adkins,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ice-T,
The Victims,
Wasted Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Japan,
Ossler,
Lou Christie,
Pierre Henry,
Loose Ends,
Reuben Wilson,
Bobby Sherman,
Idris Muhammad,
Ken Boothe,
Yusef Lateef,
Gregory Isaacs,
Severed Heads,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.