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 Djibouti and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kayak to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Reagan Youth,
Aaron Thompson,
Grauzone,
Pole,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Laurel Aitken,
Television Personalities,
Graham Central Station,
The Neon Judgement,
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers,
Patti Smith,
Mad Mike,
Index,
Gang Green,
Eddi Front,
Black Pus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lindisfarne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deadbeat,
Sandy B,
The Saints,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Letta Mbulu,
Roxette,
Ornette Coleman,
The Human League,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Tremeloes,
The Dirtbombs,
Scott Walker,
Suicide,
Sällskapet,
Visage,
Infiniti,
Nils Olav,
Todd Terry,
Lakeside,
A Certain Ratio,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Happenings,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dark Day,
Godley & Creme,
Joe Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jacques Brel,
The Last Poets,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Hood,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hoover,
Joey Negro,
The Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
The Skatalites,
Pere Ubu,
Drexciya,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
JFA,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.