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 Cuba and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro 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 Thompson Twins to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nils Olav. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Brand Nubian,
Malaria!,
Tropical Tobacco,
Khruangbin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Organ,
Ronnie Foster,
Newcleus,
Boz Scaggs,
Colin Newman,
Brick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Fire Engines,
the Human League,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lower 48,
Marvin Gaye,
CMW,
Bang On A Can,
FM Einheit,
Accadde A,
John Lydon,
The Moleskins,
Neu!,
The Gories,
Moss Icon,
Flipper,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Buckinghams,
Spandau Ballet,
Blake Baxter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Terry Callier,
MDC,
Little Man,
Warsaw,
Letta Mbulu,
Pantytec,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ultravox,
The Mighty Diamonds,
These Immortal Souls,
Sam Rivers,
John Holt,
the Germs,
Traffic Nightmare,
R.M.O.,
Jerry's Kids,
The J.B.'s,
Chrome,
Todd Terry,
Nirvana,
Susan Cadogan,
Skriet,
Scratch Acid,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deepchord,
Godley & Creme,
Gang of Four,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.