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 Seychelles and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Newcleus to the funk 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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Young Marble Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The American Breed,
Darondo,
Wally Richardson,
the Human League,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Last Poets,
10cc,
Khruangbin,
Infiniti,
Ice-T,
The Golliwogs,
China Crisis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Malaria!,
Boz Scaggs,
The Red Krayola,
Scion,
Pole,
Hot Snakes,
The Sound,
The Motions,
Porter Ricks,
Harry Pussy,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Saints,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Minny Pops,
Warsaw,
Joey Negro,
DNA,
8 Eyed Spy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suburban Knight,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Don Cherry,
Eli Mardock,
The Fuzztones,
Jacob Miller,
Josef K,
Flipper,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tres Demented,
The Dave Clark Five,
Shuggie Otis,
John Cale,
Mars,
Sex Pistols,
Black Moon,
DJ Style,
Lee Hazlewood,
Minnie Riperton,
Model 500,
MC5,
Piero Umiliani,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Bananas,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.