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 Ukraine and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba 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 Sexual Harrassment to the dance 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Gong,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cymande,
Minor Threat,
Bad Manners,
Andrew Hill,
Ten City,
Shoche,
Davy DMX,
Lindisfarne,
Sight & Sound,
Ken Boothe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
A Certain Ratio,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Spoonie Gee,
Smog,
Ronnie Foster,
Nation of Ulysses,
Niagra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Maurizio,
Letta Mbulu,
Public Enemy,
Camouflage,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
Simply Red,
The Gladiators,
Reuben Wilson,
Marvin Gaye,
The Invisible,
The Martian,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sun Ra,
Lalann,
The Move,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pantaleimon,
Godley & Creme,
The Sonics,
The Names,
Flipper,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Radio Birdman,
KRS-One,
Black Moon,
Tubeway Army,
Cal Tjader,
Robert Wyatt,
Franke,
Pulsallama,
This Heat,
Fatback Band,
The Associates,
Television,
Ice-T,
Jawbox,
Cybotron,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.