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 Serbia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator 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 Depeche Mode to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Harry Pussy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Peter and Kerry,
Pierre Henry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Cale,
The Velvet Underground,
ABBA,
Freddie Wadling,
Procol Harum,
Model 500,
Trumans Water,
The Electric Prunes,
Agent Orange,
Section 25,
Kevin Saunderson,
X-102,
Infiniti,
Radio Birdman,
Reuben Wilson,
Dawn Penn,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Severed Heads,
Symarip,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Flash Fearless,
Mad Mike,
Animal Collective,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Country Teasers,
The Count Five,
a-ha,
Donald Byrd,
Minutemen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Flipper,
Boz Scaggs,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Dave Clark Five,
EPMD,
Second Layer,
Arab on Radar,
The Golliwogs,
Television,
Minor Threat,
Bauhaus,
Rekid,
The Real Kids,
Alice Coltrane,
Chris Corsano,
Bill Wells,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fuzztones,
New Order,
Magma,
H. Thieme,
Arthur Verocai,
kango's stein massive,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.