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 Bolivia and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Schoolly D to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Eric Copeland,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Piero Umiliani,
Frankie Knuckles,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Flesh Eaters,
PIL,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Golliwogs,
Marvin Gaye,
The Count Five,
Dead Boys,
Todd Rundgren,
Nils Olav,
John Coltrane,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Sherman,
Reuben Wilson,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
Danielle Patucci,
Carl Craig,
Dark Day,
The Tremeloes,
Lightning Bolt,
Bronski Beat,
Archie Shepp,
Metal Thangz,
Darondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Laurel Aitken,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scott Walker,
B.T. Express,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Albert Ayler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Simply Red,
Ohio Players,
Echospace,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Saints,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Womack,
Soft Cell,
Rapeman,
Arab on Radar,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Livin' Joy,
Susan Cadogan,
Technova,
The Electric Prunes,
AZ,
kango's stein massive,
The Gladiators,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.