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 Senegal and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Eric B and Rakim to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Arthur Verocai,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Malaria!,
The American Breed,
Hot Snakes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Panda Bear,
Jawbox,
The Busters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Five Americans,
Ice-T,
Bang On A Can,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Alton Ellis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Hoover,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Beau Brummels,
PIL,
The Electric Prunes,
Barrington Levy,
The Wake,
Negative Approach,
Kool Moe Dee,
Au Pairs,
The Star Department,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rekid,
Amon Düül,
Carl Craig,
Howard Jones,
Supertramp,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fall,
the Soft Cell,
Motorama,
Pole,
Massinfluence,
Jeff Mills,
Leonard Cohen,
Nas,
The Leaves,
Bob Dylan,
Make Up,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New York Dolls,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kurtis Blow,
Masters at Work,
Roger Hodgson,
The Vogues,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.