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 Gambia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 organ 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 Kerri Chandler to the crunk 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
China Crisis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
World's Most,
JFA,
Vladislav Delay,
The Kinks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amon Düül,
Goldenarms,
Darondo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Saccharine Trust,
Das Ding,
the Swans,
Circle Jerks,
Skarface,
Thee Headcoats,
Piero Umiliani,
Marmalade,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minutemen,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lucky Dragons,
Eddi Front,
The Beau Brummels,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Bar-Kays,
Moebius,
The Doors,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
E-Dancer,
Scratch Acid,
Agitation Free,
The Raincoats,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
KRS-One,
Sun City Girls,
Fatback Band,
The Slits,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Bad Manners,
Can,
Don Cherry,
The Moleskins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Little Man,
Arcadia,
Warren Ellis,
Joe Smooth,
Gregory Isaacs,
Max Romeo,
The Walker Brothers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Supertramp,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.