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 Congo and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alton Ellis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Supertramp,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Essential Logic,
Radio Birdman,
Eurythmics,
Boogie Down Productions,
Amon Düül II,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rekid,
Fatback Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Newcleus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Moebius,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Last Poets,
Ossler,
Index,
Alphaville,
Gang Green,
The Index,
Electric Prunes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobby Byrd,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Henry Cow,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marmalade,
The Neon Judgement,
Absolute Body Control,
Rosa Yemen,
T. Rex,
Ultra Naté,
The Modern Lovers,
Spandau Ballet,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Outsiders,
Bang On A Can,
Qualms,
Popol Vuh,
Morten Harket,
Funky Four + One,
Delta 5,
Lou Christie,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deepchord,
Dead Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Zapp,
Aswad,
Boz Scaggs,
the Soft Cell,
Shuggie Otis,
Lower 48,
The Wake,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.