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 Bolivia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 güiro 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 Visage to the dance 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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Reagan Youth,
Au Pairs,
Maleditus Sound,
The Durutti Column,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pagans,
Derrick Morgan,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Trojans,
Moby Grape,
Con Funk Shun,
The Motions,
Deepchord,
Peter & Gordon,
The Victims,
Crash Course in Science,
In Retrospect,
Jandek,
The Cure,
Interpol,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Monks,
Section 25,
Magma,
The Techniques,
Prince Buster,
The Buckinghams,
Ponytail,
Aloha Tigers,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Los Fastidios,
Organ,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pantaleimon,
The Gladiators,
The Flesh Eaters,
10cc,
Graham Central Station,
Andrew Hill,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Malaria!,
Model 500,
The Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gong,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harmonia,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry's Kids,
Nirvana,
Blossom Toes,
Altered Images,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Happenings,
Minny Pops,
The Cramps,
Rapeman,
Marine Girls,
Agent Orange,
Sonny Sharrock,
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.