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 Turkey and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Matthew Bourne to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Human League,
Carl Craig,
The Victims,
Yusef Lateef,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Clear Light,
This Heat,
Guru Guru,
Rosa Yemen,
The Knickerbockers,
The Monks,
Lyres,
Depeche Mode,
The Fall,
Gong,
Hashim,
Leonard Cohen,
Yellowson,
Subhumans,
Donald Byrd,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mandrill,
Swell Maps,
The Moody Blues,
David McCallum,
Glenn Branca,
The Associates,
Siglo XX,
Alison Limerick,
Tears for Fears,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Schoolly D,
Alton Ellis,
Colin Newman,
Ultimate Spinach,
New Age Steppers,
Outsiders,
Stiv Bators,
Black Bananas,
Visage,
X-Ray Spex,
T. Rex,
Symarip,
Silicon Teens,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Move,
Dark Day,
Henry Cow,
Eden Ahbez,
The Barracudas,
Peter and Kerry,
New York Dolls,
the Soft Cell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly, Anakelly.
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.