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 Spain and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Spandau Ballet to the jazz 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 Delon & Dalcan. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a spring reverb and a chamberlin 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 güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joe Smooth,
Rekid,
Rakim,
the Slits,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hot Snakes,
Steve Hackett,
Sandy B,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Hood,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Pop Group,
Q and Not U,
Toni Rubio,
Pole,
Bootsy Collins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bronski Beat,
Cecil Taylor,
Flash Fearless,
Eve St. Jones,
Scrapy,
Sex Pistols,
The Vogues,
Underground Resistance,
The Mummies,
The Tremeloes,
Japan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Audionom,
Parry Music,
The Index,
Spandau Ballet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marmalade,
Radio Birdman,
X-101,
MC5,
Cheater Slicks,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hasil Adkins,
The Remains,
Carl Craig,
Liliput,
Ten City,
The Slits,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Charles Mingus,
Mars,
Brand Nubian,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Essential Logic,
Jeff Lynne,
Moss Icon,
Reagan Youth,
Clear Light,
Niagra,
DNA,
Colin Newman,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.