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 Kiribati and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 48th St. Collective to the crunk 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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Tommy Roe,
Deadbeat,
Swans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rites of Spring,
Roy Ayers,
Shoche,
Wire,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Faraquet,
Al Stewart,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Moon,
Monks,
Ronan,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Oblivians,
Darondo,
Mandrill,
Yusef Lateef,
Michelle Simonal,
The Smoke,
Simply Red,
The Star Department,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Maurizio,
DNA,
Silicon Teens,
The Doors,
Gregory Isaacs,
EPMD,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Metal Thangz,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Babytalk,
Sällskapet,
Mark Hollis,
Slave,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lower 48,
Magma,
The Dirtbombs,
The Smiths,
Reuben Wilson,
Lou Christie,
Barclay James Harvest,
JFA,
Barbara Tucker,
John Holt,
Main Source,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Grass Roots,
H. Thieme,
Stiv Bators,
Fluxion,
Livin' Joy,
Black Pus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Quando Quango,
Urselle,
Ituana,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.