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 Czech Republic and from Seoul.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the jazz 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Nas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bronski Beat,
ABBA,
Altered Images,
Terry Callier,
The Angels of Light,
Skaos,
Jacob Miller,
James White and The Blacks,
Suicide,
Shoche,
Gabor Szabo,
Radio Birdman,
Michelle Simonal,
Jandek,
Spandau Ballet,
Josef K,
Whodini,
Barbara Tucker,
New Order,
Rites of Spring,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Bananas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Qualms,
Liliput,
Junior Murvin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Motions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Robert Wyatt,
R.M.O.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Judy Mowatt,
the Slits,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ronnie Foster,
Kurtis Blow,
Pantytec,
Sparks,
Ornette Coleman,
Grauzone,
Tomorrow,
Dennis Brown,
Young Marble Giants,
Dual Sessions,
Todd Rundgren,
Darondo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Moleskins,
Robert Görl,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Goldenarms,
Magazine,
Gang of Four,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Masters at Work,
Mantronix,
Groovy Waters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.