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 Tuvalu and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Cybotron,
Wire,
Aaron Thompson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Wally Richardson,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cosmic Jokers,
B.T. Express,
Sight & Sound,
Unwound,
The Seeds,
Tubeway Army,
Eric B and Rakim,
Television Personalities,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Sheep,
Dark Day,
OOIOO,
Harry Pussy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Neil Young,
The Cramps,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scratch Acid,
The Last Poets,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Sonics,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Depeche Mode,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
Sexual Harrassment,
PIL,
Jacob Miller,
Motorama,
The Doors,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lakeside,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Peter & Gordon,
John Foxx,
Donald Byrd,
Vainqueur,
Sparks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Certain Ratio,
Bootsy Collins,
Mr. Review,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Young Rascals,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camouflage,
The Monks,
Marc Almond,
Dave Gahan,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
Dawn Penn,
Slave,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.