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 Dominican Republic and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Carl Craig to the dance 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
The Leaves,
the Sonics,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cure,
The Vogues,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Los Fastidios,
Stetsasonic,
Quantec,
Black Bananas,
The Doors,
June of 44,
Letta Mbulu,
Kaleidoscope,
The Monochrome Set,
X-Ray Spex,
The Saints,
Porter Ricks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobby Sherman,
Lucky Dragons,
X-101,
Nils Olav,
D'Angelo,
KRS-One,
Gil Scott Heron,
Slave,
The Standells,
The Young Rascals,
Joe Finger,
Al Stewart,
The Stooges,
Anthony Braxton,
Sex Pistols,
The Angels of Light,
Graham Central Station,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Model 500,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Buckinghams,
EPMD,
John Cale,
The Smoke,
The Zeros,
The Techniques,
Warren Ellis,
The Associates,
Panda Bear,
The Victims,
Crash Course in Science,
Eric Dolphy,
John Lydon,
Carl Craig,
Eddi Front,
Junior Murvin,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bill Wells,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.