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 Armenia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 PIL to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Depeche Mode,
Tres Demented,
Eurythmics,
T.S.O.L.,
Inner City,
Gang Gang Dance,
Panda Bear,
Harry Pussy,
Dave Gahan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cabaret Voltaire,
A Certain Ratio,
The Index,
Black Bananas,
Soul II Soul,
Tears for Fears,
Piero Umiliani,
Franke,
48th St. Collective,
The United States of America,
Motorama,
Mission of Burma,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Glenn Branca,
Pagans,
Oneida,
Q65,
Thee Headcoats,
Surgeon,
Saccharine Trust,
Ornette Coleman,
T. Rex,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Slave,
Faust,
Pussy Galore,
Gastr Del Sol,
Aloha Tigers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Yaz,
China Crisis,
Scion,
FM Einheit,
Mandrill,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Lydon,
The Motions,
Nick Fraelich,
The Moody Blues,
The Durutti Column,
In Retrospect,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.