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 El Salvador and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 spring reverb 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 Tropical Tobacco to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Bad Manners,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cal Tjader,
The Black Dice,
Mantronix,
Wally Richardson,
The Gladiators,
Magma,
Lebanon Hanover,
Slave,
Glenn Branca,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Almond,
Kaleidoscope,
The Dirtbombs,
Das Ding,
Barry Ungar,
Adolescents,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Toasters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jandek,
Ultravox,
Robert Wyatt,
The Moleskins,
Interpol,
Eric Dolphy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Vainqueur,
Faust,
The Invisible,
Ralphi Rosario,
Royal Trux,
The Victims,
Guru Guru,
Q65,
The Birthday Party,
The Modern Lovers,
Lyres,
Freddie Wadling,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Davy DMX,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Anakelly,
Faraquet,
ABC,
Simply Red,
Silicon Teens,
Gregory Isaacs,
Leonard Cohen,
Eddi Front,
John Cale,
Barrington Levy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Five Americans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Colin Newman,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.