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 Sweden and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the funk 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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Leonard Cohen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Blancmange,
Marc Almond,
The Slackers,
The Durutti Column,
Ituana,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Velvet Underground,
Excepter,
Pylon,
Minnie Riperton,
These Immortal Souls,
Jacob Miller,
Robert Görl,
The Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Eden Ahbez,
Sister Nancy,
Donny Hathaway,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lou Christie,
Accadde A,
the Soft Cell,
Aswad,
Dead Boys,
Amon Düül II,
Adolescents,
Boogie Down Productions,
Heaven 17,
Wally Richardson,
Agent Orange,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Seeds,
The Count Five,
Deepchord,
James White and The Blacks,
Chrome,
X-Ray Spex,
Gerry Rafferty,
Trumans Water,
The Standells,
the Association,
Wings,
Subhumans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mojo Men,
Circle Jerks,
The Tremeloes,
Index,
The Fire Engines,
The Fall,
Sex Pistols,
Roger Hodgson,
Derrick Morgan,
Susan Cadogan,
Godley & Creme,
Fluxion,
Niagra,
Arthur Verocai,
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.