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 Azerbaijan and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Holt to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Harry Pussy,
Tubeway Army,
Subhumans,
The Mojo Men,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sex Pistols,
Ronan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
UT,
Second Layer,
Guru Guru,
Andrew Hill,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Pus,
Porter Ricks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bronski Beat,
The Last Poets,
Josef K,
The Move,
Pussy Galore,
Frankie Knuckles,
LL Cool J,
The Neon Judgement,
Minor Threat,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-101,
Clear Light,
Visage,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Index,
The Evens,
Swans,
The Cramps,
Crash Course in Science,
Crime,
Gang Green,
The Electric Prunes,
The Residents,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pulsallama,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sandy B,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
Von Mondo,
The Monks,
Skarface,
EPMD,
Make Up,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Smoke,
Erasure,
Sun Ra,
Gang of Four,
Delta 5,
The Doobie Brothers,
John Foxx,
Nick Fraelich,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Misunderstood,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.