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 Thailand and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Hoover to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Graham Central Station,
Simply Red,
Danielle Patucci,
Davy DMX,
Marmalade,
UT,
the Human League,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Birthday Party,
Severed Heads,
The Sonics,
Joey Negro,
The Gun Club,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
X-Ray Spex,
Cybotron,
Shoche,
T.S.O.L.,
The Black Dice,
Ten City,
The Five Americans,
Oblivians,
Mr. Review,
Max Romeo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wasted Youth,
Lyres,
Public Image Ltd.,
Whodini,
Liliput,
James White and The Blacks,
Masters at Work,
The Invisible,
The Seeds,
Negative Approach,
Delon & Dalcan,
Magma,
Underground Resistance,
The Smiths,
Skaos,
Schoolly D,
The Fall,
Lalann,
Theoretical Girls,
Ornette Coleman,
A Certain Ratio,
The Cowsills,
Surgeon,
Ituana,
Shuggie Otis,
Roxette,
June of 44,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Beau Brummels,
Agent Orange,
Loose Ends,
Von Mondo,
H. Thieme,
Echospace,
Smog,
Boz Scaggs,
Ohio Players,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.