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 East Timor and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Boz Scaggs 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul II Soul 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Essential Logic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
David Bowie,
Clear Light,
Aaron Thompson,
Chrome,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bill Near,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Letta Mbulu,
The Slackers,
Con Funk Shun,
The New Christs,
Unrelated Segments,
Roxette,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispy Ambulance,
A Certain Ratio,
Tomorrow,
The Moleskins,
The J.B.'s,
Marshall Jefferson,
Faraquet,
Matthew Bourne,
Scratch Acid,
This Heat,
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
KRS-One,
The Tremeloes,
David McCallum,
T. Rex,
the Human League,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-101,
Arab on Radar,
Dave Gahan,
Flipper,
Shoche,
Motorama,
The Walker Brothers,
Faust,
Procol Harum,
Bush Tetras,
Marine Girls,
Echospace,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Main Source,
Moebius,
Maleditus Sound,
Monolake,
Alice Coltrane,
Pole,
Harpers Bizarre,
K-Klass,
Masters at Work,
Blossom Toes,
Joensuu 1685,
Kenny Larkin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Moody Blues,
The Knickerbockers,
Theoretical Girls,
Dead Boys,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.