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 Seychelles and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 L. Decosne to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
B.T. Express,
The Busters,
Silicon Teens,
Nico,
The Fire Engines,
Ohio Players,
Severed Heads,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Yaz,
Lou Christie,
Peter & Gordon,
Surgeon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Faraquet,
ABBA,
Rites of Spring,
Michelle Simonal,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rufus Thomas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Black Moon,
Negative Approach,
Letta Mbulu,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slackers,
Avey Tare,
Brass Construction,
Easy Going,
10cc,
Khruangbin,
Bill Wells,
Section 25,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Golliwogs,
Godley & Creme,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minutemen,
Marmalade,
Chrome,
Franke,
New Order,
Mandrill,
Fatback Band,
Intrusion,
Donny Hathaway,
Shuggie Otis,
Supertramp,
Jacques Brel,
Alice Coltrane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sparks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Howard Jones,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.