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 Armenia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gregory Isaacs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roy Ayers,
Brothers Johnson,
Stereo Dub,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Selecter,
Kerri Chandler,
Subhumans,
Radio Birdman,
Sugar Minott,
Gong,
Scientists,
Cal Tjader,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Human League,
Boz Scaggs,
Bauhaus,
Danielle Patucci,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Porter Ricks,
Yazoo,
The Buckinghams,
Judy Mowatt,
Jeff Mills,
Absolute Body Control,
Siglo XX,
Wire,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Altered Images,
Arthur Verocai,
Shuggie Otis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Y Pants,
The New Christs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Interpol,
Marine Girls,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Depeche Mode,
James White and The Blacks,
The Skatalites,
Schoolly D,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Magazine,
The Last Poets,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Laurel Aitken,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Amazonics,
Anakelly,
Bobby Sherman,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pet Shop Boys,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.