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 Vietnam and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manila.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 X-102 to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Quando Quango,
Aural Exciters,
The Mojo Men,
Max Romeo,
EPMD,
Godley & Creme,
Severed Heads,
Sarah Menescal,
The Doors,
Blossom Toes,
Smog,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Television Personalities,
Kurtis Blow,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Unrelated Segments,
Trumans Water,
Peter and Kerry,
Lalo Schifrin,
Reuben Wilson,
cv313,
L. Decosne,
Aloha Tigers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scan 7,
One Last Wish,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Knickerbockers,
Janne Schatter,
Black Flag,
Toni Rubio,
Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
Suburban Knight,
Marvin Gaye,
Davy DMX,
David McCallum,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
ABBA,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Danielle Patucci,
Index,
Chris & Cosey,
Bronski Beat,
Pierre Henry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Reagan Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
The Human League,
The Slackers,
Royal Trux,
The United States of America,
Shoche,
Joy Division,
Warren Ellis,
Boredoms,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.