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 United States 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro 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 Fire Engines to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Bill Wells,
World's Most,
Arcadia,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
New Age Steppers,
Country Teasers,
Maleditus Sound,
Unrelated Segments,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Trojans,
the Slits,
Sun City Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Donald Byrd,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Swans,
The Victims,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Traffic Nightmare,
Erasure,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Newcleus,
Moebius,
The Misunderstood,
Deakin,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scrapy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Stooges,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Star Department,
The Gladiators,
Godley & Creme,
Junior Murvin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pagans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
R.M.O.,
Half Japanese,
Robert Wyatt,
Lungfish,
Roxette,
Stiv Bators,
The Mojo Men,
Thee Headcoats,
E-Dancer,
Vainqueur,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang of Four,
Ten City,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.