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 New Zealand and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Johnny Osbourne to the funk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
The New Christs,
Bill Wells,
Soul II Soul,
China Crisis,
Aloha Tigers,
Severed Heads,
Little Man,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tim Buckley,
Sonny Sharrock,
UT,
Average White Band,
The Young Rascals,
Deepchord,
Babytalk,
The Zeros,
The Blues Magoos,
The Human League,
David McCallum,
The Selecter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sam Rivers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alison Limerick,
Urselle,
Radiohead,
Nils Olav,
Moss Icon,
Blancmange,
Gastr Del Sol,
Skarface,
Marc Almond,
Parry Music,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
D'Angelo,
Fluxion,
The Music Machine,
Technova,
Jesper Dahlback,
Q65,
Juan Atkins,
Harry Pussy,
Eric Dolphy,
David Axelrod,
The Neon Judgement,
Carl Craig,
Joensuu 1685,
Echospace,
Outsiders,
Rod Modell,
The Cowsills,
The Victims,
The Saints,
Scion,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.