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 Guyana and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 kango's stein massive 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Anthony Braxton,
10cc,
Ituana,
The Sound,
Wire,
Yusef Lateef,
The Neon Judgement,
Main Source,
Groovy Waters,
The Red Krayola,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sight & Sound,
Al Stewart,
Desert Stars,
Sonny Sharrock,
Reagan Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radiopuhelimet,
Funkadelic,
Tom Boy,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Radio Birdman,
Icehouse,
Arab on Radar,
Deepchord,
Ultra Naté,
The Durutti Column,
Essential Logic,
Pierre Henry,
Metal Thangz,
Bob Dylan,
Peter and Kerry,
Absolute Body Control,
David Axelrod,
Yellowson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Henry Cow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arthur Verocai,
The Mojo Men,
Fluxion,
Liliput,
Livin' Joy,
Aloha Tigers,
Piero Umiliani,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wings,
The Kinks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Barrington Levy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Style,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Monolake,
June Days,
Pussy Galore,
The Knickerbockers,
Eddi Front,
T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L., T.S.O.L..
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.