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 Equatorial Guinea and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Monks to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Don Cherry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
ABBA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dead C,
Robert Wyatt,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bill Near,
Brand Nubian,
The Mummies,
Michelle Simonal,
Bush Tetras,
Mission of Burma,
Japan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blues Magoos,
Deepchord,
the Bar-Kays,
48th St. Collective,
The Barracudas,
Whodini,
The Red Krayola,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantaleimon,
Das Ding,
Arcadia,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DJ Style,
Johnny Clarke,
The Blackbyrds,
Circle Jerks,
The Fugs,
Yellowson,
Maurizio,
Saccharine Trust,
Piero Umiliani,
Mad Mike,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eve St. Jones,
Lindisfarne,
Ossler,
The Toasters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
New Order,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Make Up,
Dawn Penn,
The Birthday Party,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sex Pistols,
Gabor Szabo,
Popol Vuh,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.