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 Venezuela and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Golliwogs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kaleidoscope,
In Retrospect,
Jesper Dahlback,
ABC,
Arab on Radar,
Todd Rundgren,
Slick Rick,
Amon Düül II,
The Litter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Victims,
Agitation Free,
The Busters,
Chris & Cosey,
KRS-One,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bush Tetras,
Graham Central Station,
Cal Tjader,
Man Parrish,
Rosa Yemen,
Marine Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Wings,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Robert Görl,
Oblivians,
Black Flag,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bill Near,
Rod Modell,
Cybotron,
Tommy Roe,
Camberwell Now,
Bang On A Can,
Heaven 17,
La Düsseldorf,
Stiv Bators,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bauhaus,
Roy Ayers,
Morten Harket,
Quantec,
X-102,
Pulsallama,
Mo-Dettes,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mark Hollis,
Al Stewart,
Dawn Penn,
Banda Bassotti,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Smoke,
Minnie Riperton,
Slave,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.