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 Venezuela and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Deepchord,
The Blackbyrds,
The Golliwogs,
Sound Behaviour,
The Electric Prunes,
The Names,
Suburban Knight,
Ultimate Spinach,
The United States of America,
Minutemen,
Brass Construction,
the Normal,
Inner City,
Hashim,
D'Angelo,
The Trojans,
Stetsasonic,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Swans,
Second Layer,
Marine Girls,
Sam Rivers,
The Divine Comedy,
Cybotron,
Anakelly,
Masters at Work,
Dark Day,
Fela Kuti,
Cheater Slicks,
Nas,
Faust,
Roger Hodgson,
Von Mondo,
Y Pants,
Lindisfarne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Maleditus Sound,
Rhythm & Sound,
Darondo,
Man Eating Sloth,
China Crisis,
The Vogues,
Flash Fearless,
Tubeway Army,
Mission of Burma,
Letta Mbulu,
Alphaville,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Yaz,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gang Green,
John Holt,
Mo-Dettes,
Livin' Joy,
Crash Course in Science,
Kerrie Biddell,
New Age Steppers,
Bang On A Can,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.