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 Mozambique and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 New Age Steppers to the rap 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja 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?
Ponytail,
John Holt,
Con Funk Shun,
Visage,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
D'Angelo,
John Cale,
Cybotron,
Robert Görl,
Derrick Morgan,
Terry Callier,
AZ,
The Birthday Party,
One Last Wish,
The Five Americans,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultravox,
The Raincoats,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bush Tetras,
Faust,
John Lydon,
The Skatalites,
the Soft Cell,
Magazine,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Human League,
Toni Rubio,
The Gories,
Althea and Donna,
Joy Division,
Prince Buster,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
Mark Hollis,
Rakim,
Chris Corsano,
Japan,
L. Decosne,
Kerri Chandler,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sparks,
Sonic Youth,
Idris Muhammad,
Essential Logic,
Surgeon,
Cheater Slicks,
Livin' Joy,
Ossler,
Pylon,
Scott Walker,
Juan Atkins,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eddi Front,
Average White Band,
LL Cool J,
Nico,
The Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rites of Spring,
Mars,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.