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 Georgia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 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 The Flesh Eaters 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
L. Decosne,
The Velvet Underground,
Symarip,
The Walker Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeff Mills,
Whodini,
Boz Scaggs,
Ronan,
Johnny Clarke,
The Music Machine,
Joe Finger,
Ronnie Foster,
Supertramp,
Ten City,
The Barracudas,
Depeche Mode,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Knickerbockers,
Mark Hollis,
Cymande,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
EPMD,
Gichy Dan,
Zapp,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wasted Youth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rekid,
Newcleus,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Index,
Bauhaus,
Harmonia,
Roxette,
Talk Talk,
the Soft Cell,
Peter and Kerry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scion,
Dark Day,
Stereo Dub,
The Count Five,
Fear,
The Dirtbombs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fatback Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Toasters,
The Slackers,
Jacob Miller,
Eddi Front,
Altered Images,
Television,
Scientists,
Albert Ayler,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.