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 Turkmenistan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe 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 The Alarm Clocks to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
The Fugs,
Bronski Beat,
Zapp,
Alton Ellis,
Livin' Joy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Country Teasers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Slits,
Tom Boy,
Bauhaus,
Gabor Szabo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Outsiders,
The Trojans,
Tubeway Army,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fear,
The Seeds,
Pussy Galore,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New Order,
Jerry's Kids,
The J.B.'s,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wings,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Judy Mowatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Drexciya,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABBA,
The Names,
Lou Christie,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
The Birthday Party,
Avey Tare,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Velvet Underground,
Dual Sessions,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeff Lynne,
The Smoke,
PIL,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mission of Burma,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yazoo,
Can,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Monochrome Set,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Anthony Braxton,
Mars,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.