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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
The Raincoats,
Tubeway Army,
Ponytail,
One Last Wish,
Subhumans,
L. Decosne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Icehouse,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joe Smooth,
Reuben Wilson,
The Index,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Pop Group,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sandy B,
Masters at Work,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jeff Mills,
The Red Krayola,
Chrome,
the Normal,
Ossler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jandek,
Funky Four + One,
Robert Wyatt,
U.S. Maple,
Sight & Sound,
Bobby Sherman,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Techniques,
Flash Fearless,
Eve St. Jones,
New Order,
Eddi Front,
Adolescents,
DJ Sneak,
The Moody Blues,
Index,
Gang of Four,
Wally Richardson,
These Immortal Souls,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Henry Cow,
Letta Mbulu,
Nas,
The Grass Roots,
Nils Olav,
Bill Wells,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Animal Collective,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jesper Dahlback,
Roy Ayers,
The Gories,
John Holt,
James White and The Blacks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kurtis Blow,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bauhaus,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.