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 Liberia and from Salvador.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the organ 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 Rhythm & Sound to the jazz 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Scion,
The Gories,
Eddi Front,
Dead Boys,
Maleditus Sound,
The Moleskins,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Zeros,
John Holt,
Drexciya,
The Slackers,
Nas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Wake,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radio Birdman,
Loose Ends,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eve St. Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
Subhumans,
The Move,
Monks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
La Düsseldorf,
World's Most,
H. Thieme,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mantronix,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Swans,
Cymande,
Lungfish,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Slave,
The Martian,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dennis Brown,
Harry Pussy,
The Fuzztones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Moby Grape,
The Cowsills,
Aaron Thompson,
Rotary Connection,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gabor Szabo,
D'Angelo,
Barrington Levy,
The Monochrome Set,
Los Fastidios,
Pantaleimon,
Bob Dylan,
Japan,
Mark Hollis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.