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 Moldova and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the dance 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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Unwound,
Mad Mike,
The Pop Group,
the Human League,
JFA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Junior Murvin,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eurythmics,
Chris Corsano,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Half Japanese,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Style,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang Green,
Beasts of Bourbon,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Flipper,
Avey Tare,
These Immortal Souls,
Althea and Donna,
Thompson Twins,
Susan Cadogan,
World's Most,
Gang Starr,
Interpol,
Funkadelic,
Oneida,
Minutemen,
The Cowsills,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Con Funk Shun,
Harpers Bizarre,
Matthew Bourne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Prince Buster,
Rekid,
Guru Guru,
E-Dancer,
Model 500,
Alison Limerick,
Camouflage,
Aswad,
Yellowson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Harmonia,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Moon,
Joe Smooth,
Suicide,
Tim Buckley,
Fluxion,
Faraquet,
The Star Department,
The Neon Judgement,
David Bowie,
Sam Rivers,
Jacob Miller,
The Slackers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.