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 Finland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Goldenarms to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Modern Lovers,
Babytalk,
Ultra Naté,
CMW,
Oblivians,
A Certain Ratio,
Nik Kershaw,
Sparks,
Deadbeat,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Agent Orange,
The Smiths,
Loose Ends,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Porter Ricks,
The Gun Club,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jandek,
Johnny Osbourne,
In Retrospect,
The Smoke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vainqueur,
Pulsallama,
Funky Four + One,
Zapp,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Amazonics,
Albert Ayler,
The Moleskins,
Scientists,
The Count Five,
The Last Poets,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
New Age Steppers,
Organ,
The Blues Magoos,
Minnie Riperton,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wolf Eyes,
Robert Görl,
Television,
Susan Cadogan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sex Pistols,
Talk Talk,
Marine Girls,
The Neon Judgement,
Radio Birdman,
T.S.O.L.,
Procol Harum,
Kool Moe Dee,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
DJ Sneak,
Television Personalities,
Bill Wells,
Tres Demented,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.