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 Bangladesh and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eric Copeland to the funk 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lyres,
Hot Snakes,
The Selecter,
The Standells,
Robert Görl,
Sandy B,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scott Walker,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sex Pistols,
The Victims,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Blackbyrds,
The Move,
Goldenarms,
New Age Steppers,
One Last Wish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Liliput,
Royal Trux,
Cymande,
Thompson Twins,
Deadbeat,
Dave Gahan,
UT,
Boz Scaggs,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Associates,
Rites of Spring,
Boogie Down Productions,
Harry Pussy,
Sällskapet,
Marc Almond,
Young Marble Giants,
B.T. Express,
the Normal,
The Litter,
The Saints,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Negative Approach,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Arcadia,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Make Up,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Davy DMX,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-Ray Spex,
Scientists,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Porter Ricks,
a-ha,
Franke,
Kool Moe Dee,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.