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 Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 marimba 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 Quando Quango to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Glambeats Corp.,
Soft Cell,
Sandy B,
Echospace,
Quadrant,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Fortunes,
The Gun Club,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jeff Lynne,
Rites of Spring,
Sister Nancy,
Laurel Aitken,
Dave Gahan,
the Germs,
Yellowson,
Fatback Band,
The Velvet Underground,
Josef K,
Don Cherry,
a-ha,
Ornette Coleman,
Depeche Mode,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ice-T,
Au Pairs,
Black Sheep,
Freddie Wadling,
Rosa Yemen,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cheater Slicks,
Eve St. Jones,
Steve Hackett,
Aloha Tigers,
Al Stewart,
Easy Going,
David Bowie,
Marcia Griffiths,
Avey Tare,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mad Mike,
The Cowsills,
The Moody Blues,
Urselle,
The Gories,
Anthony Braxton,
Bush Tetras,
Black Flag,
the Slits,
Barbara Tucker,
The United States of America,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Marvin Gaye,
Arthur Verocai,
La Düsseldorf,
The Durutti Column,
Matthew Halsall,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
UT,
Stiv Bators,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.