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 Sierra Leone and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Public Image Ltd. to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Bauhaus,
The Birthday Party,
The Red Krayola,
Joe Smooth,
Joey Negro,
Interpol,
Pierre Henry,
Mo-Dettes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
OOIOO,
10cc,
Bush Tetras,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lyres,
Banda Bassotti,
Amazonics,
Simply Red,
The Beau Brummels,
Gang Green,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
E-Dancer,
Cheater Slicks,
Soulsonic Force,
Brick,
Eli Mardock,
Bluetip,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultimate Spinach,
Isaac Hayes,
Rufus Thomas,
Pulsallama,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Agitation Free,
Loose Ends,
Silicon Teens,
Lungfish,
Tres Demented,
Gong,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
D'Angelo,
Brass Construction,
Bill Wells,
Pantaleimon,
The Blackbyrds,
Scan 7,
Althea and Donna,
Skaos,
Carl Craig,
Drive Like Jehu,
MC5,
Eddi Front,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Symarip,
Quadrant,
Half Japanese,
Das Ding,
Tom Boy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.