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 Jamaica and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Sister Nancy,
Moby Grape,
Minor Threat,
Eric Dolphy,
Graham Central Station,
Alison Limerick,
Organ,
Avey Tare,
Procol Harum,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ituana,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scott Walker,
Los Fastidios,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eddi Front,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Yusef Lateef,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Second Layer,
Godley & Creme,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rod Modell,
The Human League,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Flipper,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pulsallama,
Panda Bear,
The Skatalites,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
Country Teasers,
Andrew Hill,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
This Heat,
Sun Ra,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gang Green,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Victims,
Glambeats Corp.,
Simply Red,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Starr,
Groovy Waters,
Marc Almond,
The Mojo Men,
Subhumans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Shoche,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.