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 Kuwait and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Ohio Players,
Das Ding,
Spoonie Gee,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ornette Coleman,
The Count Five,
Jandek,
The Last Poets,
the Association,
T. Rex,
The Electric Prunes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marmalade,
Kurtis Blow,
Model 500,
Jacques Brel,
The Busters,
Accadde A,
Depeche Mode,
a-ha,
Steve Hackett,
Circle Jerks,
Aural Exciters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Half Japanese,
The Trojans,
The Pretty Things,
Sandy B,
Zero Boys,
Basic Channel,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Piero Umiliani,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grandmaster Flash,
Blancmange,
ABBA,
Gerry Rafferty,
Unwound,
the Sonics,
The Mojo Men,
Nick Fraelich,
T.S.O.L.,
Prince Buster,
Lightning Bolt,
The Cure,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Bar-Kays,
Ken Boothe,
The Fortunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Minnie Riperton,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lyres,
H. Thieme,
Lakeside,
Bauhaus,
Mo-Dettes,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.