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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Seoul.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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?
The Victims,
The Young Rascals,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Adolescents,
Underground Resistance,
Make Up,
Lucky Dragons,
Boz Scaggs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
Visage,
Niagra,
Yellowson,
The Pop Group,
Severed Heads,
John Lydon,
Loose Ends,
LL Cool J,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scrapy,
Bad Manners,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
In Retrospect,
X-101,
New Age Steppers,
E-Dancer,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Motorama,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dawn Penn,
Black Moon,
Iggy Pop,
Das Ding,
Throbbing Gristle,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jawbox,
KRS-One,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Desert Stars,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Busters,
Bronski Beat,
Oblivians,
Livin' Joy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hashim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Henry Cow,
Bang On A Can,
Angry Samoans,
The Slackers,
Chris Corsano,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bobby Womack,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Juan Atkins,
Spandau Ballet,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.