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 Uganda and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brass Construction to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Zapp,
Cluster,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
E-Dancer,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The J.B.'s,
Lalann,
Soft Cell,
Ponytail,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Hood,
Niagra,
Y Pants,
a-ha,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Barracudas,
Agent Orange,
The Fuzztones,
Shoche,
Minny Pops,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Selecter,
Procol Harum,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Dirtbombs,
Dual Sessions,
Technova,
Yazoo,
Pantytec,
Bob Dylan,
Barry Ungar,
Silicon Teens,
Big Daddy Kane,
Terry Callier,
Adolescents,
Model 500,
New York Dolls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
MC5,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun Ra,
Schoolly D,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Babytalk,
The Red Krayola,
DNA,
The Doobie Brothers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Misunderstood,
Marmalade,
The Leaves,
Lou Reed,
T. Rex,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.