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 Mexico and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar 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 Todd Rundgren to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Goldenarms,
The Golliwogs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
DJ Sneak,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Starr,
Half Japanese,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Visage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Inner City,
the Human League,
Japan,
Thee Headcoats,
The Real Kids,
The Trojans,
Guru Guru,
Amon Düül II,
Eddi Front,
Charles Mingus,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Little Man,
U.S. Maple,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Standells,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cecil Taylor,
Grey Daturas,
Aswad,
Faraquet,
Kool Moe Dee,
Alice Coltrane,
Malaria!,
the Slits,
Tommy Roe,
Harmonia,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Cowsills,
David McCallum,
John Foxx,
Niagra,
Black Bananas,
Pierre Henry,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Echospace,
Arcadia,
The Mojo Men,
Rakim,
Absolute Body Control,
Maurizio,
Skriet,
Scion,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Quadrant,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Fraelich,
Matthew Bourne,
Sarah Menescal,
Fela Kuti,
Heaven 17,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.