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 Uzbekistan and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barry Ungar to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Little Man,
Todd Terry,
The Busters,
Carl Craig,
Quantec,
Gabor Szabo,
F. McDonald,
Slave,
The Litter,
Q and Not U,
Sound Behaviour,
Smog,
Alison Limerick,
Monks,
X-Ray Spex,
Reagan Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Grey Daturas,
Erasure,
KRS-One,
Funkadelic,
Junior Murvin,
Derrick May,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Excepter,
Big Daddy Kane,
Supertramp,
Gang Starr,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sam Rivers,
Severed Heads,
Joe Finger,
Boredoms,
Roy Ayers,
Model 500,
Y Pants,
Magma,
Index,
Joe Smooth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Smoke,
Khruangbin,
Eden Ahbez,
Jerry's Kids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Funky Four + One,
Mad Mike,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Groovy Waters,
Vainqueur,
The Cowsills,
Hot Snakes,
Nik Kershaw,
B.T. Express,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare,
Crash Course in Science,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.