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 Fiji and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 linndrum 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Ronan,
Jacob Miller,
Avey Tare,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sandy B,
Faust,
New Order,
Slave,
Derrick May,
Skriet,
The Grass Roots,
The Wake,
Bush Tetras,
Marine Girls,
Juan Atkins,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Eddi Front,
Roy Ayers,
Sugar Minott,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric Copeland,
Mars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Smog,
Ludus,
Minny Pops,
The American Breed,
Negative Approach,
Ohio Players,
Dorothy Ashby,
Don Cherry,
Stiv Bators,
Black Moon,
The Martian,
Sonny Sharrock,
Average White Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
Minnie Riperton,
Gang Starr,
Echospace,
Fat Boys,
Wings,
Mr. Review,
Surgeon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nation of Ulysses,
Siglo XX,
Severed Heads,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skaos,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lyres,
Malaria!,
Liliput,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Zapp,
Isaac Hayes,
The Velvet Underground,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.