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 Iceland and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 One Last Wish to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
The Moleskins,
Eve St. Jones,
Matthew Bourne,
The Count Five,
Angry Samoans,
Boredoms,
The Grass Roots,
The Flesh Eaters,
Half Japanese,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABC,
Siglo XX,
The Blues Magoos,
Cluster,
The Raincoats,
Hoover,
Echospace,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Swans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Boogie Down Productions,
Simply Red,
Young Marble Giants,
The Leaves,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Television,
Bluetip,
The Selecter,
Scientists,
Warsaw,
Stereo Dub,
Fatback Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Moody Blues,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Junior Murvin,
Urselle,
The Electric Prunes,
Ponytail,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ossler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
B.T. Express,
Electric Prunes,
Malaria!,
Jeff Mills,
X-Ray Spex,
Grandmaster Flash,
Talk Talk,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sight & Sound,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Zapp,
Mantronix,
Rapeman,
The Gap Band,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.