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 Pakistan and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 New Order to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Animal Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
ABC,
the Bar-Kays,
Bill Near,
Donald Byrd,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bootsy Collins,
The Leaves,
Basic Channel,
Desert Stars,
Cymande,
Aswad,
Liliput,
Outsiders,
Blake Baxter,
K-Klass,
The Busters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Deakin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wally Richardson,
Pierre Henry,
Matthew Halsall,
Arab on Radar,
The Cure,
Underground Resistance,
Bad Manners,
DNA,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Alarm Clocks,
The United States of America,
Procol Harum,
Althea and Donna,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Reed,
Nils Olav,
The Gories,
JFA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joe Finger,
Tubeway Army,
Lou Christie,
The Durutti Column,
This Heat,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Seeds,
Reuben Wilson,
The Golliwogs,
X-102,
Yusef Lateef,
Crispy Ambulance,
Second Layer,
Boogie Down Productions,
June of 44,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.