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 France and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba 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 Angry Samoans 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
The Beau Brummels,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tim Buckley,
Quadrant,
Panda Bear,
Public Enemy,
The Invisible,
Kaleidoscope,
Mars,
Cecil Taylor,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nirvana,
Zero Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Five Americans,
Tom Boy,
Royal Trux,
Television Personalities,
The Doors,
Suicide,
The Misunderstood,
In Retrospect,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
Prince Buster,
the Swans,
Depeche Mode,
The Grass Roots,
Janne Schatter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pylon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Deadbeat,
Alton Ellis,
Mark Hollis,
Harmonia,
Saccharine Trust,
Bob Dylan,
Con Funk Shun,
Quando Quango,
The Skatalites,
Simply Red,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
New Order,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Byrd,
Maleditus Sound,
Zapp,
Bobby Womack,
Funkadelic,
Boz Scaggs,
Sparks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Oneida,
Crash Course in Science,
Sällskapet,
Whodini,
Byron Stingily,
The Red Krayola,
Soft Machine,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.