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 Dominican Republic and from New York.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Monks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fugazi,
Robert Hood,
Reuben Wilson,
Godley & Creme,
Popol Vuh,
Carl Craig,
Black Sheep,
Ken Boothe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The J.B.'s,
the Normal,
The Pop Group,
David Bowie,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Gladiators,
Franke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Agent Orange,
Gang Gang Dance,
Goldenarms,
Porter Ricks,
Young Marble Giants,
Lyres,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lakeside,
Robert Wyatt,
Tom Boy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Finger,
Echospace,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Byron Stingily,
Oneida,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bauhaus,
The Red Krayola,
Severed Heads,
Grey Daturas,
John Foxx,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Camberwell Now,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Skarface,
The Seeds,
Marcia Griffiths,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Names,
Al Stewart,
Excepter,
Yazoo,
Susan Cadogan,
Alphaville,
The Wake,
Mo-Dettes,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.