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 Morocco and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the rap 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Newcleus,
Bluetip,
Half Japanese,
Mark Hollis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rosa Yemen,
Joey Negro,
Derrick Morgan,
Spoonie Gee,
Essential Logic,
Country Teasers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Yellowson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Porter Ricks,
Tomorrow,
Michelle Simonal,
Ituana,
Babytalk,
The Electric Prunes,
New Order,
Franke,
Severed Heads,
The Star Department,
Vainqueur,
John Lydon,
Metal Thangz,
Patti Smith,
The New Christs,
Rod Modell,
Sugar Minott,
Man Parrish,
Kevin Saunderson,
Harmonia,
Bauhaus,
Bad Manners,
The Fuzztones,
The Techniques,
Masters at Work,
Barrington Levy,
Parry Music,
June of 44,
The Blues Magoos,
The Selecter,
The Durutti Column,
Eric Dolphy,
Average White Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Raincoats,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sex Pistols,
Sällskapet,
The Beau Brummels,
Flipper,
Guru Guru,
Soulsonic Force,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.