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 Kiribati and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the jazz 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Max Romeo,
Donny Hathaway,
Mantronix,
Newcleus,
Drexciya,
Roxy Music,
Black Pus,
Y Pants,
Tom Boy,
Main Source,
Parry Music,
Steve Hackett,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Danielle Patucci,
One Last Wish,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Negative Approach,
Liliput,
Isaac Hayes,
Lightning Bolt,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Junior Murvin,
The Residents,
The Smoke,
A Certain Ratio,
Marmalade,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Dead C,
Nico,
Boz Scaggs,
Intrusion,
Bill Wells,
Basic Channel,
Country Teasers,
Camberwell Now,
Magma,
Suburban Knight,
Vladislav Delay,
X-101,
Marc Almond,
CMW,
Erykah Badu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soul Sonic Force,
Public Enemy,
Rufus Thomas,
the Slits,
Sällskapet,
Gregory Isaacs,
Simply Red,
James White and The Blacks,
Camouflage,
The Skatalites,
Blake Baxter,
Harry Pussy,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Searchers,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.