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 El Salvador and from Madrid.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Eurythmics to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Sound Behaviour,
Sarah Menescal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Warsaw,
The Index,
Colin Newman,
Kerri Chandler,
Joyce Sims,
Royal Trux,
Simply Red,
Chris & Cosey,
Nico,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Last Poets,
Sugar Minott,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Blackbyrds,
Can,
Henry Cow,
the Slits,
Interpol,
Charles Mingus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Prince Buster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Monks,
Basic Channel,
Japan,
The Cure,
June of 44,
Lower 48,
The Slackers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Faust,
Byron Stingily,
The Pop Group,
Sight & Sound,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kayak,
H. Thieme,
Duran Duran,
Bootsy Collins,
Pharoah Sanders,
Outsiders,
The Mummies,
Big Daddy Kane,
One Last Wish,
Yellowson,
X-101,
The Sound,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Smoke,
Archie Shepp,
Boz Scaggs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scott Walker,
Camouflage,
The Dave Clark Five,
Goldenarms,
Siglo XX,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.