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 Kiribati and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Aswad to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Infiniti,
Marc Almond,
Black Sheep,
The Gories,
Clear Light,
the Soft Cell,
Y Pants,
Faust,
Erykah Badu,
Deepchord,
The Dead C,
Bauhaus,
F. McDonald,
Black Bananas,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Alphaville,
Duran Duran,
This Heat,
The Walker Brothers,
Agitation Free,
Althea and Donna,
The Moody Blues,
David McCallum,
Sex Pistols,
Technova,
Subhumans,
The Grass Roots,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sonics,
Guru Guru,
Interpol,
Soulsonic Force,
Nirvana,
Hot Snakes,
Franke,
Nik Kershaw,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hoover,
Rites of Spring,
The Count Five,
PIL,
Arcadia,
Lucky Dragons,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Deakin,
The Saints,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Starr,
Harry Pussy,
The Angels of Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Swell Maps,
Lightning Bolt,
Aswad,
Glambeats Corp.,
Donald Byrd,
Yazoo,
Yellowson,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.