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 Guatemala and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rekid to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Alison Limerick,
The Tremeloes,
L. Decosne,
Liliput,
Eyeless In Gaza,
John Foxx,
Sound Behaviour,
Frankie Knuckles,
Aswad,
Eli Mardock,
48th St. Collective,
Eddi Front,
CMW,
Adolescents,
Yaz,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Walker Brothers,
Brick,
Moebius,
Scott Walker,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Neon Judgement,
The Cowsills,
The Divine Comedy,
Whodini,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Index,
Kerri Chandler,
Swans,
Harry Pussy,
The Young Rascals,
Man Parrish,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nik Kershaw,
Inner City,
Cecil Taylor,
The J.B.'s,
X-102,
The Alarm Clocks,
Delon & Dalcan,
Clear Light,
Outsiders,
The Birthday Party,
The Busters,
Slick Rick,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Sonics,
Minnie Riperton,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scion,
Camouflage,
Electric Prunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Michelle Simonal,
The Black Dice,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Move,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.