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 Namibia and from London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 X-102 to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roxy Music,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Smiths,
Lou Christie,
Quando Quango,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scion,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Index,
Easy Going,
Max Romeo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Lydon,
the Swans,
Nirvana,
The Vogues,
The Techniques,
Eric B and Rakim,
8 Eyed Spy,
Half Japanese,
Cymande,
The Martian,
Warsaw,
cv313,
Fort Wilson Riot,
A Certain Ratio,
The Young Rascals,
Grauzone,
Niagra,
Severed Heads,
Little Man,
Pantaleimon,
Vladislav Delay,
Godley & Creme,
Maleditus Sound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Echospace,
Stetsasonic,
Wire,
Bill Near,
Todd Rundgren,
Au Pairs,
New Order,
Man Eating Sloth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gladiators,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cybotron,
Pantytec,
Alice Coltrane,
Absolute Body Control,
Aloha Tigers,
The Selecter,
UT,
Amon Düül,
Mo-Dettes,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.