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 Gambia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tropical Tobacco,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pussy Galore,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kas Product,
Marmalade,
The Moleskins,
Goldenarms,
Junior Murvin,
Sex Pistols,
Echospace,
Brass Construction,
The Cowsills,
Oneida,
Matthew Bourne,
Los Fastidios,
Procol Harum,
Joey Negro,
Kenny Larkin,
Glenn Branca,
Lucky Dragons,
Electric Prunes,
Soulsonic Force,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Essential Logic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Whodini,
Young Marble Giants,
Country Teasers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eddi Front,
The Divine Comedy,
Guru Guru,
Charles Mingus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lungfish,
Lindisfarne,
Iggy Pop,
Babytalk,
This Heat,
Judy Mowatt,
Agent Orange,
Inner City,
The Toasters,
The Smiths,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Green,
Todd Terry,
The Fuzztones,
Easy Going,
Freddie Wadling,
Kaleidoscope,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pylon,
Josef K,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lalann,
Jerry's Kids,
Cecil Taylor,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.