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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lille.
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 Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bob Dylan to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
The Slits,
Ohio Players,
Severed Heads,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Slits,
Aswad,
Charles Mingus,
U.S. Maple,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Standells,
Rapeman,
Kerrie Biddell,
Thee Headcoats,
Slick Rick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Scan 7,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bang On A Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Hardrive,
Sister Nancy,
Kurtis Blow,
Agent Orange,
The Knickerbockers,
Half Japanese,
Suburban Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The J.B.'s,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Grass Roots,
Qualms,
Dark Day,
the Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
a-ha,
Rufus Thomas,
Bill Near,
Fugazi,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Japan,
ABBA,
The Leaves,
Cymande,
Technova,
kango's stein massive,
Sandy B,
Q and Not U,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
MDC,
The Martian,
T.S.O.L.,
The New Christs,
The Divine Comedy,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.