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 Mongolia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 808 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 Black Pus to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Heaven 17,
Nils Olav,
Nick Fraelich,
Pagans,
Henry Cow,
Siglo XX,
Ralphi Rosario,
Half Japanese,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun City Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
Bootsy Collins,
Sam Rivers,
Aswad,
Harry Pussy,
Gichy Dan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Maurizio,
Amon Düül II,
Das Ding,
Cal Tjader,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fall,
Excepter,
Stetsasonic,
Newcleus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Bar-Kays,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Radiohead,
a-ha,
Kerri Chandler,
Fugazi,
The Saints,
Main Source,
Don Cherry,
The Moleskins,
Lou Reed,
Kevin Saunderson,
Morten Harket,
Black Bananas,
Letta Mbulu,
The Slits,
Mr. Review,
Susan Cadogan,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Motions,
ABBA,
R.M.O.,
Marvin Gaye,
Barry Ungar,
Organ,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Isaac Hayes,
Pantaleimon,
Kurtis Blow,
The Remains,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Man Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lakeside,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.