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 Samoa and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Barclay James Harvest to the techno 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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Reuben Wilson,
Harmonia,
X-101,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eddi Front,
Loose Ends,
Niagra,
Dave Gahan,
Bush Tetras,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pole,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Erasure,
Rod Modell,
Brothers Johnson,
Scratch Acid,
Grey Daturas,
The Golliwogs,
a-ha,
The Litter,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Make Up,
Cal Tjader,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ohio Players,
A Certain Ratio,
World's Most,
Mary Jane Girls,
Oblivians,
Ronnie Foster,
Archie Shepp,
Jacques Brel,
The Detroit Cobras,
Audionom,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lower 48,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mantronix,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Babytalk,
Man Parrish,
Duran Duran,
Susan Cadogan,
Unrelated Segments,
The Leaves,
Scan 7,
Boz Scaggs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
One Last Wish,
Motorama,
Franke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eve St. Jones,
Siglo XX,
Little Man,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.