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 Rwanda and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 Q65. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Gang of Four,
James White and The Blacks,
Lindisfarne,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Grass Roots,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eli Mardock,
Henry Cow,
Banda Bassotti,
Nas,
Fela Kuti,
Jawbox,
Joe Smooth,
Gong,
Symarip,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wolf Eyes,
Marmalade,
Joe Finger,
The Barracudas,
F. McDonald,
The Human League,
Trumans Water,
Animal Collective,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
PIL,
Neil Young,
Mr. Review,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Howard Jones,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Archie Shepp,
H. Thieme,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeff Lynne,
Freddie Wadling,
Eve St. Jones,
The J.B.'s,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Kenny Larkin,
48th St. Collective,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Electric Prunes,
Brick,
The Move,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aswad,
Scratch Acid,
Bush Tetras,
Eric Dolphy,
Michelle Simonal,
Sixth Finger,
The New Christs,
Average White Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dennis Brown,
Max Romeo,
La Düsseldorf,
The American Breed,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.