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 Guatemala and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Soul Sonic Force to the rock 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Yazoo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moss Icon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bill Near,
Lakeside,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fear,
The Fuzztones,
Marvin Gaye,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Almond,
The Durutti Column,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Khruangbin,
Faust,
Quadrant,
World's Most,
Black Moon,
Monks,
Reuben Wilson,
a-ha,
James White and The Blacks,
X-Ray Spex,
The Velvet Underground,
Camberwell Now,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camouflage,
The Index,
The New Christs,
The American Breed,
Procol Harum,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Angry Samoans,
Bauhaus,
Oneida,
Franke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Excepter,
Neu!,
Brass Construction,
Judy Mowatt,
Au Pairs,
cv313,
Mandrill,
The Slits,
The Names,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scrapy,
Cameo,
Yusef Lateef,
DJ Sneak,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.