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 Guinea-Bissau and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Severed Heads to the rap 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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Desert Stars,
Depeche Mode,
Mission of Burma,
Pylon,
Fluxion,
The United States of America,
Frankie Knuckles,
Massinfluence,
Jandek,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Buckinghams,
Pantaleimon,
New Age Steppers,
Royal Trux,
AZ,
Metal Thangz,
Roy Ayers,
Fela Kuti,
Archie Shepp,
Interpol,
Excepter,
Symarip,
Scrapy,
Stiv Bators,
MC5,
Joe Smooth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bronski Beat,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mummies,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Maurizio,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The New Christs,
The Smoke,
Organ,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tomorrow,
Soft Cell,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Amazonics,
Rekid,
Spandau Ballet,
Essential Logic,
Tubeway Army,
Surgeon,
Motorama,
Can,
The Sound,
Harpers Bizarre,
Liliput,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sparks,
Cheater Slicks,
New York Dolls,
Public Enemy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.