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 Samoa and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Porter Ricks to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Smog,
Interpol,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Popol Vuh,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Cell,
Junior Murvin,
Ultra Naté,
U.S. Maple,
The Blues Magoos,
Altered Images,
Electric Prunes,
Yellowson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Theoretical Girls,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Techniques,
Suicide,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Au Pairs,
Ronan,
Tubeway Army,
Quantec,
Pantaleimon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quadrant,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Porter Ricks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gun Club,
Lee Hazlewood,
Loose Ends,
Idris Muhammad,
The Golliwogs,
Shoche,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boredoms,
Tommy Roe,
Warren Ellis,
Kaleidoscope,
Sun Ra,
Scientists,
Pierre Henry,
Lalann,
Lebanon Hanover,
Roxy Music,
Public Image Ltd.,
Excepter,
Charles Mingus,
the Soft Cell,
Jandek,
Carl Craig,
Newcleus,
Jeff Mills,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobby Sherman,
New York Dolls,
Subhumans,
Robert Görl,
EPMD,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.