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 Belize 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the techno 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Magazine,
The Alarm Clocks,
Unwound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Aloha Tigers,
The Durutti Column,
Duran Duran,
Main Source,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Black Sheep,
Monolake,
The Happenings,
Josef K,
Ossler,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Minutemen,
Lalann,
FM Einheit,
Sister Nancy,
Tom Boy,
Anakelly,
Gil Scott Heron,
Delta 5,
DNA,
Dual Sessions,
48th St. Collective,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mark Hollis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Y Pants,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Normal,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kenny Larkin,
Drive Like Jehu,
The J.B.'s,
Royal Trux,
F. McDonald,
Ituana,
The Last Poets,
Cymande,
Pylon,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lou Christie,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Donny Hathaway,
Avey Tare,
Radiohead,
Wings,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bronski Beat,
Icehouse,
Spoonie Gee,
Aural Exciters,
Underground Resistance,
John Foxx,
Black Pus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Doors,
Khruangbin,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.