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 St Lucia and from London.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 Agitation Free to the crunk 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 The Selecter. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Funkadelic,
Bob Dylan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Amon Düül,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mary Jane Girls,
June of 44,
Brick,
Vainqueur,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The American Breed,
OOIOO,
Crash Course in Science,
Danielle Patucci,
The Techniques,
Negative Approach,
Hashim,
Q65,
Silicon Teens,
A Flock of Seagulls,
New Order,
Japan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joe Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arthur Verocai,
Deakin,
Albert Ayler,
The Happenings,
Michelle Simonal,
Au Pairs,
Deadbeat,
Sister Nancy,
The Fortunes,
CMW,
The Smiths,
Rekid,
Mission of Burma,
The Moleskins,
Blossom Toes,
Soft Cell,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pierre Henry,
Pere Ubu,
Lungfish,
Gang Starr,
Terrestrial Tones,
Zapp,
The Music Machine,
Surgeon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The United States of America,
R.M.O.,
The Busters,
Pylon,
Cecil Taylor,
Tim Buckley,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.