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 Azerbaijan and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba 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 Scrapy to the grime 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Little Man,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Arcadia,
Stereo Dub,
Lightning Bolt,
Nico,
Janne Schatter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Juan Atkins,
Jacques Brel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crash Course in Science,
The Happenings,
John Coltrane,
Wasted Youth,
Avey Tare,
Brick,
X-101,
Cal Tjader,
Bill Near,
The Beau Brummels,
Rosa Yemen,
Subhumans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stetsasonic,
Lower 48,
Scan 7,
Minutemen,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Marine Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Minor Threat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
B.T. Express,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bad Manners,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Knickerbockers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Intrusion,
Outsiders,
The Martian,
The Star Department,
Masters at Work,
Gregory Isaacs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Con Funk Shun,
Mo-Dettes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
UT,
Rites of Spring,
Curtis Mayfield,
ABBA,
Donald Byrd,
The Pretty Things,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.