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 Brunei and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Matthew Halsall to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Janne Schatter,
Lungfish,
Franke,
Los Fastidios,
Goldenarms,
The Busters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Swans,
Andrew Hill,
Brick,
Kerri Chandler,
the Soft Cell,
Patti Smith,
Zapp,
Tears for Fears,
Lalann,
Bill Near,
The Birthday Party,
The Dead C,
Au Pairs,
48th St. Collective,
Chrome,
Flipper,
the Germs,
Malaria!,
Masters at Work,
Wire,
Alton Ellis,
Toni Rubio,
Khruangbin,
Bobby Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
The Victims,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Stiv Bators,
Inner City,
Barbara Tucker,
Roger Hodgson,
Sonic Youth,
The Golliwogs,
James White and The Blacks,
Silicon Teens,
Jacques Brel,
Mars,
Bobby Sherman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Misunderstood,
Eurythmics,
Sarah Menescal,
Monks,
Althea and Donna,
Surgeon,
Sam Rivers,
Tomorrow,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mr. Review,
Howard Jones,
Magazine,
The Zeros,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.