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 Namibia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Slave to the crunk 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Lakeside,
Metal Thangz,
Basic Channel,
Grandmaster Flash,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Monks,
Flipper,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Connie Case,
Chris & Cosey,
Aswad,
The Dead C,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lungfish,
Circle Jerks,
The Mummies,
Sixth Finger,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxette,
Throbbing Gristle,
T.S.O.L.,
Jeff Lynne,
Oneida,
Eden Ahbez,
Jeff Mills,
Nik Kershaw,
Marine Girls,
Soulsonic Force,
Fat Boys,
Sandy B,
Fluxion,
Carl Craig,
Half Japanese,
Wolf Eyes,
The Evens,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Youth Brigade,
Bad Manners,
OOIOO,
Motorama,
The Sonics,
Anakelly,
Judy Mowatt,
The Saints,
Vladislav Delay,
Erasure,
These Immortal Souls,
Hasil Adkins,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Smoke,
EPMD,
Joe Smooth,
Agent Orange,
Severed Heads,
Thompson Twins,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skarface,
Magazine,
John Coltrane,
The Grass Roots,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yusef Lateef,
Sight & Sound,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.