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 Angola and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Yusef Lateef to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
DNA,
B.T. Express,
Joe Finger,
Brick,
Y Pants,
Angry Samoans,
Babytalk,
Stetsasonic,
Make Up,
Outsiders,
Eddi Front,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Agent Orange,
Intrusion,
Joyce Sims,
Mission of Burma,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amon Düül,
Das Ding,
X-102,
Duran Duran,
Easy Going,
Erasure,
Masters at Work,
David McCallum,
Sun Ra,
Livin' Joy,
the Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
The Buckinghams,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Techniques,
John Foxx,
Spandau Ballet,
The Modern Lovers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tim Buckley,
Juan Atkins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cal Tjader,
Scott Walker,
Joey Negro,
Wally Richardson,
Grey Daturas,
Youth Brigade,
Fear,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pagans,
Ohio Players,
Crash Course in Science,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jacques Brel,
Glambeats Corp.,
Von Mondo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bill Near,
the Slits,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.