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 Dominican Republic and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Golliwogs,
Reuben Wilson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Beau Brummels,
Make Up,
Traffic Nightmare,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lightning Bolt,
Y Pants,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Seeds,
Masters at Work,
Easy Going,
Agitation Free,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Pop Group,
Boz Scaggs,
Agent Orange,
Desert Stars,
Blancmange,
Loose Ends,
Alice Coltrane,
L. Decosne,
Alton Ellis,
Minny Pops,
The Modern Lovers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Derrick May,
Mission of Burma,
Japan,
Von Mondo,
Suicide,
The Fugs,
Absolute Body Control,
The Busters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Todd Rundgren,
Grauzone,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Martian,
Simply Red,
Lalann,
Grey Daturas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Public Enemy,
Hot Snakes,
Cluster,
The Durutti Column,
Rosa Yemen,
Visage,
The Offenders,
Laurel Aitken,
Stetsasonic,
Dave Gahan,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.