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 Belarus and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator 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 Brick to the electroclash 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Man Parrish,
The Doors,
The Durutti Column,
Whodini,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Andrew Hill,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
Boz Scaggs,
Tommy Roe,
Shoche,
Nico,
Archie Shepp,
Accadde A,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Circle Jerks,
Crime,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tom Boy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Black Dice,
Scrapy,
Underground Resistance,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
A Certain Ratio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Dual Sessions,
Malaria!,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Susan Cadogan,
Barry Ungar,
Black Moon,
Royal Trux,
Donny Hathaway,
Hot Snakes,
Nas,
Delon & Dalcan,
Charles Mingus,
The New Christs,
Eve St. Jones,
Scott Walker,
Derrick May,
The Gap Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Move,
Cal Tjader,
The Zeros,
Rakim,
Guru Guru,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wally Richardson,
Sun City Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Josef K,
Sarah Menescal,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.