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 Senegal and from Manila.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Make Up to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Brothers Johnson,
Sixth Finger,
Minnie Riperton,
Todd Rundgren,
The Detroit Cobras,
Main Source,
Ponytail,
The Invisible,
Brick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-102,
Scion,
The Toasters,
Flash Fearless,
Wire,
Joe Finger,
Thee Headcoats,
John Coltrane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lower 48,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pantaleimon,
Scientists,
Althea and Donna,
cv313,
The Names,
Duran Duran,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crime,
Kaleidoscope,
H. Thieme,
Bob Dylan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Saccharine Trust,
Zero Boys,
X-Ray Spex,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Simply Red,
Sound Behaviour,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lalann,
Eric Dolphy,
Trumans Water,
Eve St. Jones,
Jacques Brel,
Excepter,
the Soft Cell,
Lee Hazlewood,
B.T. Express,
Slave,
Colin Newman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.