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 Malta and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lyon.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Red Krayola to the techno 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Motorama,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lyres,
John Foxx,
Prince Buster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lower 48,
Glambeats Corp.,
Hoover,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Steve Hackett,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Gories,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kerri Chandler,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lindisfarne,
Avey Tare,
Easy Going,
Das Ding,
Colin Newman,
Piero Umiliani,
Youth Brigade,
Drexciya,
Mission of Burma,
The American Breed,
The Cowsills,
ABC,
Fluxion,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kenny Larkin,
Graham Central Station,
Sam Rivers,
Qualms,
Matthew Halsall,
Los Fastidios,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heaven 17,
The Skatalites,
Soulsonic Force,
James White and The Blacks,
F. McDonald,
R.M.O.,
Freddie Wadling,
Lakeside,
Wire,
Panda Bear,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fortunes,
Andrew Hill,
Shoche,
John Cale,
Judy Mowatt,
Shuggie Otis,
Darondo,
Deakin,
Connie Case,
Sun City Girls,
Dave Gahan,
E-Dancer,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.