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 Zambia and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the crunk 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
The Red Krayola,
The Remains,
Brothers Johnson,
Eden Ahbez,
Cecil Taylor,
Pagans,
Glenn Branca,
Slave,
Byron Stingily,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
David McCallum,
In Retrospect,
Joe Smooth,
Davy DMX,
The Saints,
Cheater Slicks,
Franke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Au Pairs,
Bob Dylan,
Clear Light,
Ornette Coleman,
Bad Manners,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Swell Maps,
Rhythm & Sound,
Dennis Brown,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lower 48,
Scientists,
The Black Dice,
June Days,
Fat Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Barclay James Harvest,
X-101,
Circle Jerks,
the Normal,
John Lydon,
Graham Central Station,
Harpers Bizarre,
Oneida,
Intrusion,
The New Christs,
Bill Wells,
Scratch Acid,
Popol Vuh,
Stiv Bators,
Joe Finger,
The Young Rascals,
June of 44,
T. Rex,
Lungfish,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aloha Tigers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.