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 Papua New Guinea and from Jakarta.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Aural Exciters to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
This Heat,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Doobie Brothers,
Moss Icon,
The Beau Brummels,
The Victims,
Organ,
The Remains,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cure,
Chrome,
The Dave Clark Five,
Spandau Ballet,
Unwound,
Aaron Thompson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mantronix,
Drexciya,
Michelle Simonal,
Japan,
Minutemen,
Hardrive,
Surgeon,
Kenny Larkin,
Sugar Minott,
The Skatalites,
The Last Poets,
The Blues Magoos,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aloha Tigers,
The Names,
Loose Ends,
Todd Terry,
Circle Jerks,
The Buckinghams,
Nas,
CMW,
Lebanon Hanover,
Accadde A,
Can,
Suicide,
Ossler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
X-102,
Tommy Roe,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Monks,
The Real Kids,
Letta Mbulu,
Absolute Body Control,
Bill Wells,
Nirvana,
Mark Hollis,
Roxette,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Toni Rubio,
Anakelly,
Simply Red,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.