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 Nepal 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 T. Rex to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Drexciya,
Maurizio,
Can,
Franke,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sandy B,
Tim Buckley,
a-ha,
Hashim,
Ohio Players,
Panda Bear,
JFA,
The Five Americans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eurythmics,
Pharoah Sanders,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Misunderstood,
Harmonia,
David Axelrod,
Blossom Toes,
Mars,
Rotary Connection,
Agent Orange,
Banda Bassotti,
Newcleus,
Von Mondo,
The Grass Roots,
The Fire Engines,
Pantytec,
Smog,
Television Personalities,
Mad Mike,
The Mojo Men,
Leonard Cohen,
Soulsonic Force,
Interpol,
Scientists,
Funky Four + One,
Audionom,
Bronski Beat,
Hot Snakes,
Black Moon,
PIL,
Junior Murvin,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Leaves,
Roy Ayers,
Mantronix,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dual Sessions,
Aaron Thompson,
MDC,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Avey Tare,
Lou Reed,
The Associates,
Barclay James Harvest,
Con Funk Shun,
Barry Ungar,
Carl Craig,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.