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 Gambia and from Mexico City.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Sex Pistols to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Von Mondo,
New Order,
The Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Trumans Water,
Chrome,
Warren Ellis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Red Krayola,
Ice-T,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ossler,
Warsaw,
Andrew Hill,
The Young Rascals,
Donald Byrd,
Tom Boy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Black Dice,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
Bang On A Can,
Donny Hathaway,
Nirvana,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Johnny Osbourne,
Siglo XX,
Reagan Youth,
Gang Green,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Byrd,
Arthur Verocai,
10cc,
Robert Wyatt,
Mr. Review,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül II,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gastr Del Sol,
Tres Demented,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Bananas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hasil Adkins,
Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs,
Schoolly D,
The Fuzztones,
Amazonics,
Nas,
The Standells,
Khruangbin,
F. McDonald,
Mary Jane Girls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
kango's stein massive,
Camouflage,
the Association,
The Blackbyrds,
Little Man,
DNA,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.