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 Iraq and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
The Smoke,
UT,
Brand Nubian,
Ludus,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Intrusion,
D'Angelo,
Second Layer,
Niagra,
K-Klass,
The Gladiators,
Lyres,
Average White Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Michelle Simonal,
Minor Threat,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Interpol,
The United States of America,
Eli Mardock,
Yaz,
FM Einheit,
Mark Hollis,
Clear Light,
MDC,
Funky Four + One,
Joey Negro,
Rod Modell,
Loose Ends,
Organ,
Harry Pussy,
Anakelly,
June of 44,
Alison Limerick,
Excepter,
Iggy Pop,
R.M.O.,
Bill Wells,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joy Division,
Quando Quango,
The Mummies,
Outsiders,
Isaac Hayes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jacob Miller,
Wally Richardson,
Ronan,
Das Ding,
Amazonics,
Whodini,
Sister Nancy,
David McCallum,
The Golliwogs,
Jawbox,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Shoche,
Infiniti,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.