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 Estonia and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 These Immortal Souls to the grunge 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
A Certain Ratio,
Eve St. Jones,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Victims,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gichy Dan,
Anakelly,
Motorama,
The Gories,
Bronski Beat,
Mr. Review,
KRS-One,
Eric B and Rakim,
Delon & Dalcan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nas,
Niagra,
The Gladiators,
Negative Approach,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
DNA,
Stereo Dub,
LL Cool J,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soulsonic Force,
Underground Resistance,
Deepchord,
the Bar-Kays,
New Order,
The Monks,
Lou Christie,
The Residents,
The Vogues,
Little Man,
X-Ray Spex,
Boz Scaggs,
Warren Ellis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Agitation Free,
The Real Kids,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Quantec,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tubeway Army,
Guru Guru,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Public Enemy,
Moby Grape,
Blancmange,
Todd Terry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sight & Sound,
Bill Near,
The Index,
Loose Ends,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Sheep,
Sparks,
The Martian,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.