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 Tuvalu and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Carl Craig to the electroclash 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron 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 spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Roxette,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Motions,
Rosa Yemen,
The Shadows of Knight,
Sonic Youth,
Kas Product,
Byron Stingily,
Spandau Ballet,
Hoover,
Eve St. Jones,
Reuben Wilson,
Ossler,
The New Christs,
The Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sex Pistols,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bauhaus,
Ornette Coleman,
Blake Baxter,
Cymande,
DNA,
The Toasters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Saints,
Average White Band,
The Trojans,
Connie Case,
The Black Dice,
Slave,
Robert Wyatt,
Tom Boy,
Mad Mike,
Terry Callier,
Darondo,
The Kinks,
AZ,
Gang Green,
The Human League,
Stereo Dub,
Zapp,
Index,
Pierre Henry,
The Martian,
The Stooges,
Rod Modell,
OOIOO,
Janne Schatter,
Dark Day,
Lakeside,
Motorama,
Mr. Review,
Joensuu 1685,
Minor Threat,
The Real Kids,
The Remains,
The Standells,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Television,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.