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 Cameroon and from Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Black Pus to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Idris Muhammad,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Bananas,
Desert Stars,
Symarip,
Black Pus,
Sixth Finger,
Silicon Teens,
Shoche,
Grandmaster Flash,
This Heat,
Severed Heads,
Peter and Kerry,
Sugar Minott,
B.T. Express,
Can,
The Grass Roots,
48th St. Collective,
Liliput,
Black Moon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tommy Roe,
Public Enemy,
Stetsasonic,
Sam Rivers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Godley & Creme,
The Searchers,
Gong,
Ice-T,
L. Decosne,
Max Romeo,
Hasil Adkins,
The Victims,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Motions,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Electric Prunes,
Henry Cow,
Lower 48,
Aloha Tigers,
Zapp,
Derrick May,
Davy DMX,
Warsaw,
The Modern Lovers,
the Human League,
Young Marble Giants,
Ossler,
Livin' Joy,
The Techniques,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Smiths,
Jeff Lynne,
Gang Starr,
Kerri Chandler,
Amon Düül,
Faraquet,
Barry Ungar,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Groovy Waters,
Fela Kuti,
Vainqueur,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.