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 Kenya and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 linndrum 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Names,
Fear,
Blossom Toes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
MC5,
Infiniti,
Kurtis Blow,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Average White Band,
X-102,
Freddie Wadling,
In Retrospect,
Johnny Clarke,
Bill Wells,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Slick Rick,
Scrapy,
Morten Harket,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric Copeland,
Black Flag,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roy Ayers,
Siglo XX,
Television,
Lyres,
The Wake,
Arab on Radar,
Max Romeo,
The Invisible,
The New Christs,
Underground Resistance,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jeff Mills,
Ossler,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pantytec,
Kerri Chandler,
Ken Boothe,
Joe Finger,
The Seeds,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Green,
The Cure,
The American Breed,
Michelle Simonal,
Banda Bassotti,
Derrick Morgan,
Inner City,
The Searchers,
Eden Ahbez,
Minor Threat,
Bauhaus,
Heaven 17,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fad Gadget,
Nas,
Spandau Ballet,
Amon Düül II,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.