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 Tonga and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ice-T to the funk 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Eddi Front,
Yaz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Slick Rick,
Black Pus,
Johnny Clarke,
Spandau Ballet,
Deadbeat,
Theoretical Girls,
Quadrant,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Infiniti,
Outsiders,
John Foxx,
Tim Buckley,
Warsaw,
The Music Machine,
Crime,
U.S. Maple,
Rod Modell,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brick,
Lalann,
JFA,
Audionom,
Surgeon,
Ice-T,
The Beau Brummels,
Mo-Dettes,
Pylon,
E-Dancer,
Cecil Taylor,
Rapeman,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Standells,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Isaac Hayes,
The Invisible,
Quando Quango,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
LL Cool J,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Star Department,
L. Decosne,
Jacob Miller,
Frankie Knuckles,
Suburban Knight,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sound Behaviour,
Cameo,
Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Sneak,
Stetsasonic,
Gerry Rafferty,
Adolescents,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ludus,
Underground Resistance,
Erykah Badu,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.