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 United States and from New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Delhi.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lyres to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
The Invisible,
Joy Division,
Danielle Patucci,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crispian St. Peters,
Byron Stingily,
Flash Fearless,
Quantec,
The Last Poets,
The Stooges,
Lyres,
10cc,
Fear,
Harpers Bizarre,
These Immortal Souls,
Piero Umiliani,
Harry Pussy,
Infiniti,
Michelle Simonal,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Happenings,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Sonics,
The Fortunes,
Cecil Taylor,
Mandrill,
Adolescents,
cv313,
Sight & Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tubeway Army,
Idris Muhammad,
X-102,
Pharoah Sanders,
Derrick May,
Tears for Fears,
Aswad,
This Heat,
Trumans Water,
The Skatalites,
Deadbeat,
Juan Atkins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fuzztones,
Ralphi Rosario,
Visage,
Easy Going,
Boredoms,
Soft Machine,
Urselle,
Ken Boothe,
Hashim,
Liliput,
F. McDonald,
Jerry's Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
Flamin' Groovies,
Frankie Knuckles,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.