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 Russia 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Barclay James Harvest,
Radio Birdman,
Jacques Brel,
The Music Machine,
Deadbeat,
The New Christs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gabor Szabo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobby Byrd,
Yazoo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Barbara Tucker,
Dave Gahan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Flash Fearless,
Agent Orange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pussy Galore,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Invisible,
Skarface,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wolf Eyes,
Joe Finger,
Hasil Adkins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Black Sheep,
Masters at Work,
Inner City,
Dark Day,
Los Fastidios,
Banda Bassotti,
Amazonics,
Essential Logic,
Suicide,
Sexual Harrassment,
H. Thieme,
Vainqueur,
Electric Prunes,
Joyce Sims,
Television Personalities,
Soft Machine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Buckinghams,
The Remains,
Davy DMX,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Susan Cadogan,
Erasure,
Vladislav Delay,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Tremeloes,
Ten City,
Jawbox,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.