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 Dominica and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Unrelated Segments to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Jacob Miller,
Wings,
Mad Mike,
Steve Hackett,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Duran Duran,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Leaves,
the Bar-Kays,
Procol Harum,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Invisible,
Hashim,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jacques Brel,
Lightning Bolt,
Grey Daturas,
Tom Boy,
The Standells,
David McCallum,
Max Romeo,
The Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Robert Görl,
Carl Craig,
Youth Brigade,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eric Copeland,
Sound Behaviour,
Juan Atkins,
Kurtis Blow,
The Blackbyrds,
The United States of America,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Sherman,
Bad Manners,
DNA,
Aswad,
The Five Americans,
Avey Tare,
The Black Dice,
Deadbeat,
The Dead C,
Albert Ayler,
Kerri Chandler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Kinks,
Ken Boothe,
Yaz,
Minor Threat,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Moleskins,
Aloha Tigers,
New York Dolls,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.