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 Ghana and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ 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 Leonard Cohen to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Minutemen,
Make Up,
Don Cherry,
Sparks,
Heaven 17,
The Techniques,
Marshall Jefferson,
Andrew Hill,
Rosa Yemen,
Negative Approach,
Siglo XX,
The J.B.'s,
DJ Sneak,
T. Rex,
Von Mondo,
Hot Snakes,
Pagans,
Warren Ellis,
Nick Fraelich,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deakin,
Blancmange,
The Mojo Men,
the Germs,
Donald Byrd,
Liliput,
Mo-Dettes,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Sherman,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cramps,
Oblivians,
CMW,
Yazoo,
Boredoms,
New Age Steppers,
The Tremeloes,
Wally Richardson,
John Foxx,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ponytail,
Tom Boy,
Jeff Lynne,
Delta 5,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gong,
Bill Near,
Marmalade,
Kenny Larkin,
Angry Samoans,
The Index,
X-101,
The Young Rascals,
Surgeon,
Charles Mingus,
Monks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Massinfluence,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.