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 Guyana and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
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 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 Camouflage to the rock 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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Deakin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Graham Central Station,
Talk Talk,
Derrick Morgan,
Spandau Ballet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Pretty Things,
Tomorrow,
The Sisters of Mercy,
LL Cool J,
The Selecter,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Wake,
Marvin Gaye,
KRS-One,
Eddi Front,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smoke,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Blossom Toes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
H. Thieme,
The Fuzztones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cymande,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Steve Hackett,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bauhaus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
X-Ray Spex,
John Foxx,
Flash Fearless,
Ohio Players,
Jerry's Kids,
Sällskapet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Al Stewart,
The Stooges,
Lyres,
Eric Dolphy,
Deepchord,
Johnny Clarke,
Adolescents,
Piero Umiliani,
Harry Pussy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lalann,
The Busters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Altered Images,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joey Negro,
Yazoo,
The Fire Engines,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
F. McDonald,
Vainqueur,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang On A Can,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.