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 East Timor and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Harpers Bizarre to the electroclash 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine 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?
Zapp,
Eve St. Jones,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Malaria!,
In Retrospect,
Johnny Clarke,
The Searchers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tres Demented,
Funkadelic,
Amon Düül,
K-Klass,
Moebius,
Altered Images,
Mr. Review,
June Days,
Half Japanese,
Goldenarms,
The Offenders,
Kas Product,
Surgeon,
Skriet,
Maleditus Sound,
Henry Cow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Motorama,
Neu!,
Joyce Sims,
Wally Richardson,
The Last Poets,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Finger,
Amon Düül II,
The Zeros,
Robert Wyatt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Suburban Knight,
Interpol,
The Fugs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Radio Birdman,
Roxette,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Letta Mbulu,
Parry Music,
The Angels of Light,
Barry Ungar,
Sixth Finger,
Aswad,
T.S.O.L.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brand Nubian,
Sun City Girls,
The Fortunes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.