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 Guatemala and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wire to the grime 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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Bill Wells,
Shoche,
John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Maurizio,
Eden Ahbez,
Buzzcocks,
The Vogues,
The Kinks,
the Slits,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Real Kids,
The Associates,
Depeche Mode,
The Monochrome Set,
Kaleidoscope,
Byron Stingily,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Names,
Roxette,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barbara Tucker,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Black Moon,
Second Layer,
Sparks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ice-T,
Ronnie Foster,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Sonics,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aaron Thompson,
Nirvana,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
The Tremeloes,
Godley & Creme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Boredoms,
Chrome,
David Axelrod,
June of 44,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nik Kershaw,
Alphaville,
Desert Stars,
Susan Cadogan,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
MC5,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scott Walker,
Hashim,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.