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 Nicaragua 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Al Stewart to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lungfish,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marvin Gaye,
Con Funk Shun,
The Golliwogs,
OOIOO,
Ash Ra Tempel,
New York Dolls,
Excepter,
Brand Nubian,
Wasted Youth,
R.M.O.,
Nation of Ulysses,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sarah Menescal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nils Olav,
10cc,
Rotary Connection,
Bluetip,
Mark Hollis,
Pantaleimon,
the Slits,
The Buckinghams,
Ultravox,
The Pretty Things,
Crooked Eye,
Urselle,
Jandek,
Mo-Dettes,
The Raincoats,
Clear Light,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Real Kids,
Technova,
Hasil Adkins,
Vladislav Delay,
Robert Görl,
Ronnie Foster,
Trumans Water,
Scratch Acid,
The Smiths,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Section 25,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Desert Stars,
The Gories,
Faraquet,
Khruangbin,
Eve St. Jones,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
China Crisis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Foxx,
New Age Steppers,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.