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 Oman and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Darondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cowsills,
Aloha Tigers,
Slick Rick,
Bush Tetras,
The Dirtbombs,
Sonic Youth,
MDC,
Wings,
the Soft Cell,
Brass Construction,
Glenn Branca,
EPMD,
Sex Pistols,
Oblivians,
Camberwell Now,
The Buckinghams,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Section 25,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Byron Stingily,
Kurtis Blow,
The Sisters of Mercy,
E-Dancer,
The Slits,
Lower 48,
Lou Reed,
Intrusion,
Sound Behaviour,
Grauzone,
Banda Bassotti,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Lydon,
Nils Olav,
Ponytail,
Rod Modell,
Little Man,
Alton Ellis,
Anthony Braxton,
Crooked Eye,
DJ Style,
New Age Steppers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Japan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mad Mike,
Jandek,
Royal Trux,
the Association,
Chrome,
Guru Guru,
Jacques Brel,
the Germs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Boz Scaggs,
Television Personalities,
The Smoke,
The Cramps,
Suicide,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.