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 Solomon Islands and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ossler to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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,
Mars,
The Durutti Column,
Bush Tetras,
Black Sheep,
Sex Pistols,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Icehouse,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Urselle,
Interpol,
Ludus,
Fad Gadget,
T.S.O.L.,
The Beau Brummels,
Prince Buster,
The Modern Lovers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Görl,
Crooked Eye,
Pantaleimon,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang Starr,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
MDC,
the Swans,
Q and Not U,
The Pretty Things,
Juan Atkins,
Idris Muhammad,
The Electric Prunes,
Little Man,
Soft Machine,
Pole,
Brand Nubian,
The Smiths,
Radio Birdman,
Sun Ra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Deadbeat,
Bootsy Collins,
Suburban Knight,
Radiohead,
The Monks,
Alphaville,
John Holt,
X-101,
Ronnie Foster,
Infiniti,
Lee Hazlewood,
Theoretical Girls,
Main Source,
Kevin Saunderson,
H. Thieme,
Rod Modell,
La Düsseldorf,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fuzztones,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.