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 Iraq and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flash Fearless to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Wake,
Au Pairs,
Desert Stars,
L. Decosne,
The Flesh Eaters,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Silicon Teens,
Kerri Chandler,
The Beau Brummels,
The Leaves,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rosa Yemen,
Sight & Sound,
Leonard Cohen,
Gastr Del Sol,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fugazi,
The Remains,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Red Krayola,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Matthew Bourne,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slits,
The Monks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kas Product,
Kool Moe Dee,
In Retrospect,
The Gladiators,
Byron Stingily,
The Grass Roots,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Nas,
Index,
Sonic Youth,
Wire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dead C,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eric Dolphy,
The Monochrome Set,
Fatback Band,
Deepchord,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moby Grape,
X-102,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sonny Sharrock,
Infiniti,
ABC,
Ken Boothe,
Aural Exciters,
Skaos,
Jacques Brel,
Lucky Dragons,
The American Breed,
Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter.
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.