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 Malawi and from Johannesburg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk 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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Selecter,
Bill Wells,
The Happenings,
The Busters,
John Lydon,
Bobby Womack,
The Fugs,
The Doors,
Pylon,
Roxy Music,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Slackers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aural Exciters,
Model 500,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Buzzcocks,
Cybotron,
Scrapy,
Stetsasonic,
The Mummies,
Yellowson,
Black Bananas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Barrington Levy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fela Kuti,
Inner City,
Jacob Miller,
Sonic Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
Warsaw,
AZ,
R.M.O.,
Ludus,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Skatalites,
Dual Sessions,
Little Man,
Albert Ayler,
Graham Central Station,
Sun Ra,
Howard Jones,
Essential Logic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bootsy Collins,
EPMD,
Smog,
Index,
Quadrant,
The Smiths,
Motorama,
The Offenders,
Joensuu 1685,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Surgeon,
The Pretty Things,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Adolescents,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.