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 Burkina and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Monochrome Set to the funk 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin 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 Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Joensuu 1685,
Idris Muhammad,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dennis Brown,
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
In Retrospect,
Agitation Free,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eli Mardock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rotary Connection,
Buzzcocks,
The Victims,
Fela Kuti,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Leonard Cohen,
The Cure,
The Music Machine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Darondo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Flag,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Suicide,
Jacques Brel,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Last Poets,
Prince Buster,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moss Icon,
Can,
Eve St. Jones,
Yaz,
Bang On A Can,
Cameo,
Absolute Body Control,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Foxx,
The Gories,
Yusef Lateef,
Little Man,
The Index,
the Slits,
Ten City,
The Golliwogs,
These Immortal Souls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Red Krayola,
Livin' Joy,
Television Personalities,
Black Sheep,
The Misunderstood,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Steve Hackett,
Roxy Music,
Rosa Yemen,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.