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 Sierra Leone and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum 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 Robert Hood to the dance 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
John Coltrane,
The Saints,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Zero Boys,
David Bowie,
Talk Talk,
Lindisfarne,
La Düsseldorf,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Move,
The Techniques,
Harry Pussy,
Patti Smith,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Section 25,
Supertramp,
Minny Pops,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Invisible,
Marvin Gaye,
Procol Harum,
The Electric Prunes,
Absolute Body Control,
Guru Guru,
The Stooges,
Minutemen,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sunsets and Hearts,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fad Gadget,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moebius,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mandrill,
Fluxion,
Eric Copeland,
The Zeros,
Parry Music,
Black Pus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
MC5,
Organ,
Johnny Osbourne,
Heaven 17,
Marshall Jefferson,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Last Poets,
CMW,
Sight & Sound,
A Certain Ratio,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang of Four,
The United States of America,
Schoolly D,
Skriet,
The Red Krayola,
Hasil Adkins,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.