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 Marshall Islands and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Count Five to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Cluster,
Camouflage,
Black Moon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scion,
Toni Rubio,
MDC,
Cymande,
Ice-T,
Minutemen,
Funkadelic,
Khruangbin,
Silicon Teens,
F. McDonald,
The Blackbyrds,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Index,
Rufus Thomas,
MC5,
Lightning Bolt,
Agitation Free,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The New Christs,
Grey Daturas,
Suburban Knight,
Q and Not U,
Gang Green,
The Grass Roots,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Dirtbombs,
Hot Snakes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gang Starr,
Au Pairs,
Ossler,
Technova,
Jesper Dahlback,
Motorama,
Sun City Girls,
The Velvet Underground,
Henry Cow,
Eric Dolphy,
Letta Mbulu,
Essential Logic,
Gong,
John Cale,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ludus,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Yusef Lateef,
Adolescents,
Animal Collective,
Symarip,
Todd Rundgren,
Parry Music,
the Swans,
B.T. Express,
Deadbeat,
Fat Boys,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.