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 Switzerland and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 Yazoo to the rap 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Swans,
The Pop Group,
The Dirtbombs,
Duran Duran,
Porter Ricks,
Parry Music,
Sandy B,
U.S. Maple,
Stereo Dub,
The Last Poets,
The Smiths,
Banda Bassotti,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Icehouse,
James White and The Blacks,
Fela Kuti,
X-101,
Barclay James Harvest,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Visage,
Black Pus,
A Certain Ratio,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Robert Hood,
Dual Sessions,
Jandek,
Alice Coltrane,
The Invisible,
Marvin Gaye,
Japan,
Silicon Teens,
Q and Not U,
The Doobie Brothers,
Arab on Radar,
Max Romeo,
Rod Modell,
Second Layer,
Howard Jones,
Robert Görl,
Deepchord,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Angry Samoans,
Man Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
Dark Day,
Chrome,
Babytalk,
Surgeon,
The Birthday Party,
Camberwell Now,
The Gladiators,
Moby Grape,
The Mummies,
Cameo,
Radio Birdman,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Angels of Light,
Harpers Bizarre,
EPMD,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.