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 Vietnam and from Philadelphia.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Beau Brummels to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Theoretical Girls,
Idris Muhammad,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fear,
R.M.O.,
Grandmaster Flash,
Albert Ayler,
Henry Cow,
The Gap Band,
Peter and Kerry,
the Bar-Kays,
Lucky Dragons,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Icehouse,
Hardrive,
Loose Ends,
FM Einheit,
New York Dolls,
Masters at Work,
Liliput,
the Swans,
Sparks,
The Doors,
the Normal,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Pus,
Sister Nancy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rekid,
Anakelly,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jawbox,
The Mummies,
Faust,
The Sonics,
The Moody Blues,
The Music Machine,
X-101,
The Selecter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Monolake,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Count Five,
Dorothy Ashby,
Interpol,
Skaos,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Anthony Braxton,
Panda Bear,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Litter,
Moby Grape,
The Standells,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle 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.