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 Bulgaria and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Barrington Levy to the disco 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Fania All-Stars,
Schoolly D,
Funkadelic,
Iggy Pop,
Warsaw,
Ken Boothe,
Bill Near,
Jacob Miller,
Organ,
FM Einheit,
Sugar Minott,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marshall Jefferson,
Chris Corsano,
The Fire Engines,
Desert Stars,
The Smoke,
Eric Dolphy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Toni Rubio,
Dual Sessions,
Amon Düül,
Fear,
Soulsonic Force,
Bronski Beat,
The Five Americans,
The Mojo Men,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rotary Connection,
Public Image Ltd.,
Man Parrish,
Jimmy McGriff,
The American Breed,
The Slits,
Tommy Roe,
The Blackbyrds,
The Gun Club,
Marc Almond,
Vladislav Delay,
Deadbeat,
Nas,
The Gories,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Procol Harum,
Sex Pistols,
Jawbox,
Tropical Tobacco,
K-Klass,
X-102,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rakim,
Skaos,
Harry Pussy,
Boz Scaggs,
Underground Resistance,
Aaron Thompson,
The Fall,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.