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 Fiji and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Eric B and Rakim to the funk 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Howard Jones,
The Detroit Cobras,
F. McDonald,
Das Ding,
Visage,
Jerry Gold Smith,
DJ Sneak,
kango's stein massive,
Qualms,
Eric Copeland,
Whodini,
Slick Rick,
Popol Vuh,
Stereo Dub,
New Age Steppers,
The Index,
Skaos,
Buzzcocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rapeman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
Drexciya,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Black Sheep,
Man Parrish,
Icehouse,
Organ,
the Swans,
Gang of Four,
Crime,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ornette Coleman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
a-ha,
Eden Ahbez,
Cluster,
The Angels of Light,
Gichy Dan,
MDC,
Parry Music,
Arab on Radar,
Chris Corsano,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Soft Cell,
Oblivians,
Althea and Donna,
Faust,
Scrapy,
Black Bananas,
Reuben Wilson,
Marmalade,
Minnie Riperton,
Dark Day,
The Barracudas,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.