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 Cuba and from Cairo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Martian to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Organ,
Fugazi,
Cymande,
Lungfish,
ABBA,
Robert Wyatt,
Dawn Penn,
Traffic Nightmare,
Monolake,
Pantytec,
Wally Richardson,
Accadde A,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Urselle,
Ronnie Foster,
Boredoms,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marmalade,
Radio Birdman,
The Happenings,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grauzone,
Little Man,
Sam Rivers,
The Modern Lovers,
Moss Icon,
Isaac Hayes,
The Knickerbockers,
The Dead C,
Colin Newman,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dirtbombs,
Newcleus,
Rhythm & Sound,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Toasters,
The Fugs,
Rakim,
Slave,
The Flesh Eaters,
EPMD,
Bill Near,
Brass Construction,
DJ Style,
Black Moon,
Eddi Front,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fortunes,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers,
Symarip,
Black Flag,
Lindisfarne,
The Last Poets,
Outsiders,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.