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 Eritrea and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer 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 Johnny Clarke to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Khruangbin,
F. McDonald,
T. Rex,
Mr. Review,
Quadrant,
Laurel Aitken,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Robert Görl,
Von Mondo,
Black Pus,
Joe Finger,
Wolf Eyes,
Patti Smith,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The J.B.'s,
Peter & Gordon,
Groovy Waters,
Zapp,
Amazonics,
Boz Scaggs,
Wire,
Can,
Rites of Spring,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
Carl Craig,
X-101,
Johnny Osbourne,
Saccharine Trust,
The Pretty Things,
Sam Rivers,
Youth Brigade,
Cecil Taylor,
Quantec,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fire Engines,
Kerri Chandler,
Vladislav Delay,
Boredoms,
Jandek,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radio Birdman,
The Stooges,
Moss Icon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Essential Logic,
The Standells,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
The Buckinghams,
Index,
Drexciya,
R.M.O.,
Swell Maps,
John Lydon,
Sun City Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Suburban Knight,
The Skatalites,
Lakeside,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.