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 Papua New Guinea and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Girls At Our Best! to the disco 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Crash Course in Science,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mission of Burma,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cowsills,
The Buckinghams,
The Zeros,
One Last Wish,
The Mojo Men,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Unwound,
Quadrant,
Buzzcocks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Robert Görl,
Wasted Youth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Johnny Osbourne,
Albert Ayler,
Little Man,
Anakelly,
Panda Bear,
MC5,
Idris Muhammad,
Ralphi Rosario,
Schoolly D,
Toni Rubio,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
U.S. Maple,
Lou Reed,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vainqueur,
Sex Pistols,
Zapp,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Chris & Cosey,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fuzztones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eddi Front,
The Blackbyrds,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nas,
Shuggie Otis,
MDC,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Green,
Q65,
Thompson Twins,
Soft Cell,
Sister Nancy,
Sonic Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Happenings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Parry Music,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.