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 Namibia and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Moebius to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Interpol,
Freddie Wadling,
In Retrospect,
Eurythmics,
Mission of Burma,
Scrapy,
Roxette,
Girls At Our Best!,
Spandau Ballet,
Lyres,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bill Near,
Kevin Saunderson,
Arthur Verocai,
Yazoo,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Flesh Eaters,
OOIOO,
Flipper,
Chrome,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Desert Stars,
Quantec,
Half Japanese,
Tres Demented,
Althea and Donna,
Mary Jane Girls,
Swell Maps,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dawn Penn,
Don Cherry,
The Monks,
Kurtis Blow,
ABC,
Minutemen,
X-102,
Shoche,
Pharoah Sanders,
Donny Hathaway,
Sarah Menescal,
Dual Sessions,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Infiniti,
Lakeside,
The Star Department,
a-ha,
Deakin,
Guru Guru,
Qualms,
Whodini,
Archie Shepp,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Sonics,
Spoonie Gee,
X-Ray Spex,
China Crisis,
Prince Buster,
MC5,
Marc Almond,
E-Dancer,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.