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 Mongolia and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Slick Rick to the disco 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Easy Going,
Jandek,
The Birthday Party,
Jacob Miller,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mary Jane Girls,
Arcadia,
The Last Poets,
Toni Rubio,
The Remains,
Scott Walker,
Tubeway Army,
Negative Approach,
Motorama,
the Germs,
Schoolly D,
Quando Quango,
La Düsseldorf,
Urselle,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Michelle Simonal,
The Saints,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
cv313,
The Evens,
Ultra Naté,
Buzzcocks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Holt,
The Fugs,
the Normal,
Cybotron,
Tim Buckley,
James White and The Blacks,
Letta Mbulu,
Radio Birdman,
Sugar Minott,
The Shadows of Knight,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Archie Shepp,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dead C,
The Beau Brummels,
The Count Five,
Hardrive,
Reuben Wilson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
Silicon Teens,
K-Klass,
The Invisible,
the Human League,
Kurtis Blow,
48th St. Collective,
Joe Smooth,
Dark Day,
The Toasters,
Joey Negro,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.