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 Netherlands and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 arpeggiator 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 Cheater Slicks to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Easy Going,
Alton Ellis,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gladiators,
Pierre Henry,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Moleskins,
The Golliwogs,
Quadrant,
Gerry Rafferty,
Icehouse,
The Standells,
Maurizio,
Gichy Dan,
Pagans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Neu!,
The Fire Engines,
Kerrie Biddell,
Circle Jerks,
Slave,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Cale,
ABBA,
The Star Department,
Monks,
The Gun Club,
Sam Rivers,
Andrew Hill,
Pussy Galore,
The Birthday Party,
Roy Ayers,
Ultravox,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tears for Fears,
Agent Orange,
Rufus Thomas,
The Angels of Light,
Camberwell Now,
Theoretical Girls,
Lucky Dragons,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dave Gahan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Q65,
The Blues Magoos,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Searchers,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tommy Roe,
Moby Grape,
The Velvet Underground,
Jawbox,
Colin Newman,
ABC,
Motorama,
Leonard Cohen,
The Cowsills,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.