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 Ivory Coast and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Minutemen to the grunge 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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
The Mojo Men,
Johnny Osbourne,
Alison Limerick,
Sparks,
DNA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Normal,
Josef K,
E-Dancer,
The Wake,
Piero Umiliani,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
a-ha,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Mummies,
Second Layer,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
New York Dolls,
Arthur Verocai,
Infiniti,
Robert Wyatt,
Ralphi Rosario,
Toni Rubio,
Blake Baxter,
The Fugs,
Blancmange,
Q and Not U,
Supertramp,
The Associates,
The Beau Brummels,
Cameo,
Depeche Mode,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Unwound,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Sherman,
Pantaleimon,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fortunes,
One Last Wish,
Wasted Youth,
Essential Logic,
Pulsallama,
Lyres,
Ituana,
Gregory Isaacs,
Babytalk,
Kayak,
Marmalade,
Hashim,
Vainqueur,
Eden Ahbez,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bill Wells,
Mantronix,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.