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 Nigeria and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar 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 Freddie Wadling to the techno 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Agent Orange,
Aaron Thompson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mo-Dettes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Supertramp,
AZ,
Essential Logic,
Derrick Morgan,
Roxette,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sixth Finger,
Man Parrish,
Pierre Henry,
Wings,
Harmonia,
Niagra,
Tommy Roe,
Radio Birdman,
The Zeros,
Magazine,
Henry Cow,
Vladislav Delay,
Excepter,
Judy Mowatt,
Cal Tjader,
The Move,
Graham Central Station,
The Tremeloes,
Glenn Branca,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Techniques,
Los Fastidios,
Quadrant,
The Red Krayola,
Average White Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soul II Soul,
Stereo Dub,
Dead Boys,
Make Up,
Anthony Braxton,
The Buckinghams,
Joensuu 1685,
Metal Thangz,
Arthur Verocai,
Piero Umiliani,
Kas Product,
The Moleskins,
Joe Smooth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bob Dylan,
One Last Wish,
Drexciya,
Severed Heads,
K-Klass,
Eurythmics,
The Gap Band,
Q and Not U,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.