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 Equatorial Guinea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Aaron Thompson 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 Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Tropical Tobacco,
Duran Duran,
David Axelrod,
John Coltrane,
The Smoke,
Aswad,
Althea and Donna,
Drexciya,
Slick Rick,
In Retrospect,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dawn Penn,
Judy Mowatt,
Porter Ricks,
Gang Green,
Accadde A,
The Birthday Party,
Fela Kuti,
Nik Kershaw,
New York Dolls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Beau Brummels,
Rod Modell,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
The Walker Brothers,
Unrelated Segments,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boredoms,
Iggy Pop,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
ABC,
The Fall,
The Shadows of Knight,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Blancmange,
Suicide,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Altered Images,
UT,
L. Decosne,
Cheater Slicks,
Mark Hollis,
Guru Guru,
Desert Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kayak,
Erykah Badu,
The Gun Club,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minutemen,
Spoonie Gee,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
MDC,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Absolute Body Control,
X-102,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mandrill,
Derrick May,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.