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 Senegal and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the electroclash 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Echospace,
Blake Baxter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sister Nancy,
the Normal,
Intrusion,
Trumans Water,
The Vogues,
FM Einheit,
The Skatalites,
Camberwell Now,
Avey Tare,
Faraquet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Loose Ends,
The Count Five,
Masters at Work,
Bronski Beat,
Harpers Bizarre,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Animal Collective,
Pagans,
Nirvana,
The New Christs,
Nas,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lalann,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Blossom Toes,
DNA,
the Soft Cell,
Tubeway Army,
The Motions,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Tremeloes,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Bar-Kays,
Babytalk,
Oneida,
Outsiders,
Warsaw,
Bad Manners,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Icehouse,
Electric Prunes,
Depeche Mode,
Kevin Saunderson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lou Christie,
Public Image Ltd.,
Cameo,
Heaven 17,
John Foxx,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Move,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.