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 Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 John Foxx to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Procol Harum,
Deepchord,
Tom Boy,
Tubeway Army,
Qualms,
Eurythmics,
Black Moon,
The Last Poets,
Bill Wells,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Seeds,
The Martian,
Brand Nubian,
Neil Young,
Babytalk,
Young Marble Giants,
Agent Orange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Schoolly D,
Monolake,
the Slits,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jawbox,
Q65,
Boredoms,
Scion,
B.T. Express,
8 Eyed Spy,
June of 44,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marc Almond,
Cybotron,
Scientists,
E-Dancer,
a-ha,
Heaven 17,
Skriet,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sarah Menescal,
Soulsonic Force,
Susan Cadogan,
Severed Heads,
Mad Mike,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-102,
Dave Gahan,
Carl Craig,
Das Ding,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Glenn Branca,
Vainqueur,
the Human League,
World's Most,
Von Mondo,
LL Cool J,
Joyce Sims,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Isaac Hayes,
Barrington Levy,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.