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 Kenya and from Jakarta.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron 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 The Doors to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Barry Ungar,
Young Marble Giants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Arab on Radar,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Bananas,
The Martian,
Janne Schatter,
Bob Dylan,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Terrestrial Tones,
Spandau Ballet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Neon Judgement,
Steve Hackett,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suicide,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cheater Slicks,
Soulsonic Force,
Slick Rick,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stetsasonic,
Jandek,
The Last Poets,
The Angels of Light,
Flipper,
Robert Görl,
The Young Rascals,
The Real Kids,
Public Image Ltd.,
Skarface,
Thee Headcoats,
Newcleus,
Reuben Wilson,
The Cure,
Fad Gadget,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Slackers,
In Retrospect,
Ossler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Magazine,
Idris Muhammad,
the Soft Cell,
Fatback Band,
Mandrill,
the Slits,
E-Dancer,
The Associates,
Kenny Larkin,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mo-Dettes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Reagan Youth,
Darondo,
Television Personalities,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.