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 Palau and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Index,
In Retrospect,
Amon Düül II,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Bar-Kays,
Animal Collective,
Harry Pussy,
Heaven 17,
Agent Orange,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Blackbyrds,
X-Ray Spex,
Bush Tetras,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Blake Baxter,
Nas,
Bobby Sherman,
Ohio Players,
Interpol,
The Cure,
Ponytail,
the Sonics,
Banda Bassotti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Monks,
Mo-Dettes,
Nils Olav,
Clear Light,
Fear,
Porter Ricks,
Minnie Riperton,
Pylon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joy Division,
The Toasters,
Nick Fraelich,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Prince Buster,
Agitation Free,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Velvet Underground,
The Cramps,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Parry Music,
Godley & Creme,
Radio Birdman,
Sparks,
Letta Mbulu,
Scrapy,
Drexciya,
Niagra,
Soft Machine,
Fela Kuti,
Bobby Womack,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Accadde A,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.