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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Second Layer to the dance 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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
The Monks,
Wally Richardson,
Unwound,
Mandrill,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Bowie,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scott Walker,
June Days,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Kinks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nation of Ulysses,
K-Klass,
Can,
Henry Cow,
T.S.O.L.,
Public Enemy,
Adolescents,
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Clarke,
The Vogues,
Lee Hazlewood,
Maleditus Sound,
Brand Nubian,
Letta Mbulu,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Throbbing Gristle,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Byrd,
Matthew Halsall,
New Order,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Seeds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Toni Rubio,
Minutemen,
Wire,
Morten Harket,
Gong,
The Dead C,
Bobby Womack,
The Alarm Clocks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Neu!,
Al Stewart,
Ultravox,
Sexual Harrassment,
DJ Style,
Monks,
Deepchord,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
UT,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Names,
Camberwell Now,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Motions,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.