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 Solomon Islands and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rap 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Fluxion,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joe Finger,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minnie Riperton,
Shoche,
The Cowsills,
Pere Ubu,
Carl Craig,
Camouflage,
June Days,
The Move,
The Velvet Underground,
Interpol,
Sister Nancy,
Maleditus Sound,
Inner City,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ken Boothe,
Clear Light,
Robert Görl,
Man Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Malaria!,
The Remains,
Yaz,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Raincoats,
D'Angelo,
Soft Machine,
Ornette Coleman,
Newcleus,
Subhumans,
The Slackers,
The Slits,
Saccharine Trust,
Supertramp,
Kaleidoscope,
Cluster,
The Golliwogs,
FM Einheit,
Matthew Bourne,
Goldenarms,
Jawbox,
Johnny Clarke,
Sex Pistols,
The Buckinghams,
Public Enemy,
Pussy Galore,
the Sonics,
Quadrant,
Stetsasonic,
Massinfluence,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aural Exciters,
Junior Murvin,
the Association,
Idris Muhammad,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.