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 Czech Republic and from Spokane.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Das Ding to the rap 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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Halsall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Banda Bassotti,
The Moody Blues,
The Zeros,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sarah Menescal,
Harry Pussy,
Erykah Badu,
Kurtis Blow,
Mo-Dettes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Black Moon,
Danielle Patucci,
Bob Dylan,
The Star Department,
Grauzone,
Kenny Larkin,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jawbox,
Jerry's Kids,
Loose Ends,
The Fall,
The Doors,
Lightning Bolt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marshall Jefferson,
DNA,
The Five Americans,
PIL,
Easy Going,
Glenn Branca,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crash Course in Science,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Residents,
Electric Prunes,
The Smiths,
Depeche Mode,
The Red Krayola,
Spoonie Gee,
Robert Görl,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Donald Byrd,
Connie Case,
Peter & Gordon,
ABBA,
Susan Cadogan,
The Monochrome Set,
Gregory Isaacs,
Angry Samoans,
Sugar Minott,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Charles Mingus,
DJ Style,
Skaos,
Alton Ellis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Saints,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.