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 Colombia and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the grunge 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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
the Slits,
Black Moon,
Moby Grape,
Amazonics,
The Dirtbombs,
June Days,
Swell Maps,
New York Dolls,
Idris Muhammad,
Brand Nubian,
DJ Sneak,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moebius,
The Kinks,
Saccharine Trust,
Circle Jerks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Beau Brummels,
Q65,
The Smoke,
Section 25,
Hot Snakes,
Alice Coltrane,
Gang of Four,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Althea and Donna,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Hasil Adkins,
Pussy Galore,
The Happenings,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tim Buckley,
FM Einheit,
Crispian St. Peters,
MDC,
Arab on Radar,
The Trojans,
Pole,
Carl Craig,
Faust,
Roxy Music,
Stereo Dub,
The Skatalites,
Heaven 17,
Judy Mowatt,
The Pop Group,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eurythmics,
Godley & Creme,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Essential Logic,
The Count Five,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ice-T,
The Five Americans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.