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 Armenia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ice-T to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
The Divine Comedy,
Iggy Pop,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry's Kids,
DJ Style,
The Dead C,
The Pretty Things,
Crooked Eye,
Radiopuhelimet,
Arcadia,
Subhumans,
Hashim,
Camberwell Now,
Sex Pistols,
F. McDonald,
The Human League,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sight & Sound,
Patti Smith,
H. Thieme,
Black Pus,
The Searchers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Index,
The Invisible,
John Lydon,
Stiv Bators,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sällskapet,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ituana,
Anthony Braxton,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Girls At Our Best!,
PIL,
X-Ray Spex,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fear,
The Grass Roots,
Mad Mike,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Coltrane,
The Star Department,
Buzzcocks,
Suburban Knight,
The Durutti Column,
Circle Jerks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
48th St. Collective,
AZ,
Ken Boothe,
Whodini,
Ossler,
Livin' Joy,
Yaz,
the Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Sherman,
Peter and Kerry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.