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 Papua New Guinea and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Lou Reed 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 Avey Tare to the dance 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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Radiohead,
Eve St. Jones,
K-Klass,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Youth Brigade,
The Barracudas,
Ponytail,
Smog,
Tropical Tobacco,
B.T. Express,
Can,
Aural Exciters,
Bobby Sherman,
Subhumans,
The Motions,
Terry Callier,
the Bar-Kays,
The Count Five,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
These Immortal Souls,
Q and Not U,
The Smiths,
Alton Ellis,
Cheater Slicks,
Marmalade,
Scratch Acid,
The Offenders,
Warren Ellis,
Altered Images,
Judy Mowatt,
Q65,
Khruangbin,
Michelle Simonal,
Glenn Branca,
Angry Samoans,
Alice Coltrane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Isaac Hayes,
Maurizio,
X-101,
Radiopuhelimet,
Albert Ayler,
Dead Boys,
Main Source,
The Wake,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scott Walker,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Los Fastidios,
Toni Rubio,
Crime,
Aaron Thompson,
Section 25,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bootsy Collins,
Swell Maps,
Ossler,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.