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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kevin Saunderson to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
the Soft Cell,
Organ,
Ultravox,
The Slits,
Rakim,
Severed Heads,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sugar Minott,
Eric B and Rakim,
Cluster,
Glenn Branca,
The Real Kids,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Techniques,
Pierre Henry,
Tommy Roe,
Hashim,
Aloha Tigers,
China Crisis,
Magma,
Jacques Brel,
Gabor Szabo,
Althea and Donna,
Fluxion,
The Young Rascals,
Funky Four + One,
Erasure,
Traffic Nightmare,
Thee Headcoats,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blancmange,
John Coltrane,
David McCallum,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Duran Duran,
Freddie Wadling,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
D'Angelo,
Eddi Front,
The Doors,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Velvet Underground,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Henry Cow,
Arab on Radar,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Graham Central Station,
Pylon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mission of Burma,
Unwound,
Matthew Halsall,
Subhumans,
FM Einheit,
Nik Kershaw,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.