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 Laos and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the rap 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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
David McCallum,
Desert Stars,
Pussy Galore,
Interpol,
Morten Harket,
Sex Pistols,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harpers Bizarre,
Altered Images,
Scan 7,
Carl Craig,
Idris Muhammad,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
H. Thieme,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Slits,
Ronan,
The Gun Club,
Lee Hazlewood,
Howard Jones,
Eric Dolphy,
Sixth Finger,
Infiniti,
Vladislav Delay,
David Bowie,
Sonic Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Model 500,
Masters at Work,
Barry Ungar,
Godley & Creme,
The Evens,
Tubeway Army,
Aloha Tigers,
Ice-T,
Marmalade,
Television,
Swell Maps,
Con Funk Shun,
Nirvana,
the Soft Cell,
the Normal,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
In Retrospect,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Don Cherry,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Malaria!,
Television Personalities,
Blancmange,
The Remains,
Wire,
the Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roxy Music,
Quadrant,
Graham Central Station,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.