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 Turkmenistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
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 David Bowie 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the punk 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Scrapy,
Excepter,
Sight & Sound,
Supertramp,
Nick Fraelich,
Depeche Mode,
Roger Hodgson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Vainqueur,
Al Stewart,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sandy B,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zero Boys,
The Fire Engines,
Darondo,
Robert Görl,
Ponytail,
Schoolly D,
Simply Red,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Alarm Clocks,
Buzzcocks,
LL Cool J,
Wasted Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gun Club,
Brand Nubian,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeff Mills,
Sun City Girls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nas,
Bush Tetras,
The Cure,
Tubeway Army,
Yellowson,
Television,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
The Sonics,
Moebius,
Pylon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
cv313,
Michelle Simonal,
Scott Walker,
Brass Construction,
Echospace,
Neu!,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moby Grape,
The Toasters,
Unwound,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Vladislav Delay,
Harpers Bizarre,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.