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 Argentina and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Electric Prunes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Glenn Branca,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Los Fastidios,
Anakelly,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Gun Club,
Byron Stingily,
Max Romeo,
The Count Five,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cluster,
Henry Cow,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Shuggie Otis,
UT,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Schoolly D,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Techniques,
Lalann,
The Smiths,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Litter,
The Offenders,
Rekid,
Lightning Bolt,
X-Ray Spex,
Electric Prunes,
Jawbox,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Modern Lovers,
Make Up,
The Barracudas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Laurel Aitken,
The Beau Brummels,
Lebanon Hanover,
Blake Baxter,
The Divine Comedy,
Deepchord,
The Saints,
Rakim,
Swans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ultravox,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wally Richardson,
In Retrospect,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aural Exciters,
Magma,
Ultra Naté,
Pole,
Eric Dolphy,
Yazoo,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.