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 Armenia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Crooked Eye to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Busters. All the underground hits.
All The Moody Blues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
The Real Kids,
Wasted Youth,
Tommy Roe,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cameo,
The American Breed,
Average White Band,
Rites of Spring,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
Minor Threat,
Althea and Donna,
The Slits,
Cybotron,
Kaleidoscope,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ossler,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Little Man,
The Five Americans,
The Residents,
CMW,
Electric Prunes,
Spoonie Gee,
The Smoke,
Patti Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Hoover,
10cc,
The Cure,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Flag,
The Last Poets,
Nation of Ulysses,
Intrusion,
These Immortal Souls,
Prince Buster,
Fluxion,
Massinfluence,
Barry Ungar,
the Germs,
Gang of Four,
The Index,
The Gories,
Newcleus,
Flash Fearless,
The J.B.'s,
Gong,
The Names,
Bill Wells,
Pulsallama,
Lightning Bolt,
Throbbing Gristle,
Archie Shepp,
Janne Schatter,
Popol Vuh,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.