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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Blancmange to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association 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?
Section 25,
Moebius,
Man Parrish,
Eric Copeland,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Procol Harum,
Amon Düül,
Aural Exciters,
The Martian,
Peter and Kerry,
UT,
Ponytail,
Blossom Toes,
Colin Newman,
Jacob Miller,
Black Flag,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crooked Eye,
E-Dancer,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tears for Fears,
Carl Craig,
Das Ding,
Janne Schatter,
Morten Harket,
10cc,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Happenings,
Danielle Patucci,
Judy Mowatt,
Nick Fraelich,
Joe Smooth,
Dead Boys,
Brick,
Malaria!,
Joensuu 1685,
Wolf Eyes,
The Residents,
Hardrive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Last Poets,
Roger Hodgson,
Minutemen,
Arcadia,
Black Pus,
Hot Snakes,
Nils Olav,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Mummies,
Sällskapet,
Circle Jerks,
Depeche Mode,
Ohio Players,
Easy Going,
Piero Umiliani,
Average White Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Oneida,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Blake Baxter,
Trumans Water,
Sister Nancy,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.