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 Tunisia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 New Order to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes 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 synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ken Boothe,
Mars,
Siglo XX,
Fat Boys,
Tom Boy,
Talk Talk,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eli Mardock,
F. McDonald,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sun City Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Tim Buckley,
Pantytec,
Donald Byrd,
Flipper,
Scan 7,
E-Dancer,
The Angels of Light,
Alphaville,
Rosa Yemen,
Sparks,
Young Marble Giants,
Mandrill,
Massinfluence,
Grandmaster Flash,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Big Daddy Kane,
Animal Collective,
Black Bananas,
Public Enemy,
Don Cherry,
Prince Buster,
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Hood,
DJ Sneak,
Gang Starr,
Thee Headcoats,
Unrelated Segments,
Slick Rick,
The Detroit Cobras,
Joyce Sims,
Soulsonic Force,
The Misunderstood,
Quadrant,
Rekid,
Trumans Water,
the Normal,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Saints,
The Motions,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joensuu 1685,
Max Romeo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.