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 Lesotho and from Bremen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 spring reverb 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 John Foxx to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Gang Gang Dance,
Smog,
Amazonics,
John Coltrane,
Faraquet,
Lou Reed,
Urselle,
Lalo Schifrin,
Curtis Mayfield,
June of 44,
Tears for Fears,
Steve Hackett,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
Jimmy McGriff,
Subhumans,
Byron Stingily,
The Monks,
Japan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Youth Brigade,
Bronski Beat,
Tomorrow,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bob Dylan,
Cymande,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Massinfluence,
Black Pus,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brass Construction,
Agent Orange,
Rotary Connection,
Mission of Burma,
Warren Ellis,
Metal Thangz,
Lyres,
Warsaw,
Crispian St. Peters,
cv313,
Dorothy Ashby,
Young Marble Giants,
Das Ding,
Masters at Work,
Slave,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Leaves,
Laurel Aitken,
Janne Schatter,
Technova,
June Days,
The Slits,
Junior Murvin,
Mars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Essential Logic,
Eli Mardock,
Sam Rivers,
These Immortal Souls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.