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 Cape Verde and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 linndrum 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 Roy Ayers to the grunge 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Massinfluence,
New Order,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Oblivians,
AZ,
Livin' Joy,
Malaria!,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lucky Dragons,
Slave,
These Immortal Souls,
The J.B.'s,
The Dirtbombs,
Fad Gadget,
Wire,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Divine Comedy,
The Buckinghams,
Barbara Tucker,
the Swans,
Deepchord,
Robert Wyatt,
The Gap Band,
The Gun Club,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yazoo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nik Kershaw,
H. Thieme,
John Holt,
Blake Baxter,
The Mummies,
Don Cherry,
Soft Cell,
Harry Pussy,
Mark Hollis,
B.T. Express,
The Grass Roots,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ken Boothe,
kango's stein massive,
The Index,
Warren Ellis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fugazi,
The Standells,
Can,
Bob Dylan,
Thompson Twins,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sex Pistols,
Kaleidoscope,
Lalann,
Sight & Sound,
The Angels of Light,
Robert Görl,
8 Eyed Spy,
Janne Schatter,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.