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 Guinea and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Paris and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Robert Palmer 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 Neil Young to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Q65,
Grauzone,
Erasure,
H. Thieme,
Fela Kuti,
Todd Terry,
48th St. Collective,
Laurel Aitken,
Lindisfarne,
Delta 5,
The Kinks,
Rekid,
10cc,
Barbara Tucker,
Pagans,
Mandrill,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Young Marble Giants,
Bad Manners,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Misunderstood,
Joyce Sims,
Black Bananas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eurythmics,
Roxette,
Eric Copeland,
Ohio Players,
The Blackbyrds,
Donald Byrd,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Bar-Kays,
Dual Sessions,
Organ,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Real Kids,
MC5,
The Pop Group,
The Pretty Things,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
DJ Sneak,
Kayak,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Human League,
The Index,
The Zeros,
Ludus,
The Cure,
Cybotron,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Quantec,
Glenn Branca,
The Monks,
Crispy Ambulance,
B.T. Express,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bang On A Can,
Can,
Lucky Dragons,
The Tremeloes,
Chris & Cosey,
Connie Case,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.