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 Tanzania and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Average White Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Faust,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rekid,
DNA,
Don Cherry,
L. Decosne,
Barrington Levy,
Robert Hood,
Livin' Joy,
Nirvana,
Ralphi Rosario,
Von Mondo,
Ronan,
Sun Ra,
Juan Atkins,
The Real Kids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Blackbyrds,
Sixth Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Busters,
Babytalk,
Derrick May,
Buzzcocks,
Nik Kershaw,
UT,
Marine Girls,
New Order,
This Heat,
Mad Mike,
Depeche Mode,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tommy Roe,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mark Hollis,
Smog,
Wolf Eyes,
Cybotron,
The Trojans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marc Almond,
Brothers Johnson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Blues Magoos,
Fatback Band,
Sonic Youth,
The Mojo Men,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Names,
Bobby Byrd,
Thompson Twins,
Sam Rivers,
Eve St. Jones,
Harry Pussy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minnie Riperton,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.