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 Papua New Guinea and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Robert Palmer 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 Fortunes to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Eddi Front,
Flipper,
Robert Wyatt,
Jacob Miller,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Pus,
Bluetip,
The United States of America,
Howard Jones,
Scott Walker,
This Heat,
Surgeon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
David Axelrod,
Symarip,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kenny Larkin,
Brick,
X-102,
Crooked Eye,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ornette Coleman,
Vainqueur,
Blancmange,
Zero Boys,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Blossom Toes,
The Litter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ten City,
The Index,
Tropical Tobacco,
Soft Machine,
Isaac Hayes,
The Saints,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Guru Guru,
Banda Bassotti,
Soul II Soul,
Johnny Clarke,
48th St. Collective,
Monks,
Dead Boys,
Bad Manners,
Boredoms,
Rhythm & Sound,
Todd Rundgren,
John Holt,
Dave Gahan,
Hashim,
Yusef Lateef,
Newcleus,
Bobby Byrd,
ABC,
Gang Green,
Anthony Braxton,
Chris & Cosey,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.