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 Cambodia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Marine Girls to the rock 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
The Black Dice,
Symarip,
Janne Schatter,
Darondo,
Gichy Dan,
Nils Olav,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Green,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jerry's Kids,
The Associates,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Birthday Party,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Delta 5,
Whodini,
Minutemen,
The Dave Clark Five,
Adolescents,
Skaos,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Don Cherry,
Gang of Four,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alphaville,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marc Almond,
Sister Nancy,
Pulsallama,
Rufus Thomas,
Derrick May,
Cymande,
Ken Boothe,
The Fire Engines,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Modern Lovers,
Das Ding,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sixth Finger,
Neu!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Connie Case,
Sonic Youth,
Television,
Joyce Sims,
Patti Smith,
Fad Gadget,
Buzzcocks,
Section 25,
Suburban Knight,
Chrome,
Essential Logic,
The Moleskins,
John Foxx,
Fifty Foot Hose,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.