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 San Marino and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and New York.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Popol Vuh to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter & Gordon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Guru Guru,
D'Angelo,
Todd Terry,
Severed Heads,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jacob Miller,
Cecil Taylor,
Model 500,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Absolute Body Control,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Kinks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eden Ahbez,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
F. McDonald,
Procol Harum,
Scrapy,
New Order,
China Crisis,
Swans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Germs,
Reuben Wilson,
Max Romeo,
Soulsonic Force,
The Remains,
T. Rex,
The United States of America,
FM Einheit,
Susan Cadogan,
Darondo,
The Birthday Party,
Blake Baxter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Second Layer,
Ultimate Spinach,
Joey Negro,
The Fuzztones,
Zapp,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ossler,
John Coltrane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Prince Buster,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Doors,
The Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rapeman,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Womack,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crime,
The Evens,
Connie Case,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.