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 San Marino and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Erasure,
The Dead C,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Wyatt,
Idris Muhammad,
Dual Sessions,
Inner City,
The Motions,
Barry Ungar,
Iggy Pop,
Steve Hackett,
Fat Boys,
The Leaves,
Whodini,
Aswad,
The Offenders,
Ornette Coleman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
New Age Steppers,
Hoover,
These Immortal Souls,
The Young Rascals,
Q and Not U,
Mr. Review,
Excepter,
Pierre Henry,
Judy Mowatt,
Thee Headcoats,
The Alarm Clocks,
Unwound,
The J.B.'s,
Pere Ubu,
The Stooges,
Rod Modell,
Kas Product,
Boredoms,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Grandmaster Flash,
DNA,
Scott Walker,
Guru Guru,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Radiohead,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Shuggie Otis,
Yusef Lateef,
Jawbox,
Bobby Womack,
Camberwell Now,
Fela Kuti,
The Fire Engines,
Man Eating Sloth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Unrelated Segments,
Slick Rick,
F. McDonald,
Gabor Szabo,
Mad Mike,
The Durutti Column,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Josef K,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.