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 Kuwait and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Desert Stars to the techno 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott Heron,
Freddie Wadling,
Toni Rubio,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dead Boys,
Buzzcocks,
Robert Wyatt,
Scientists,
Vladislav Delay,
the Soft Cell,
Agitation Free,
Eric B and Rakim,
Suicide,
The Index,
Minutemen,
The J.B.'s,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Quantec,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anthony Braxton,
Outsiders,
Arcadia,
Sonic Youth,
Radio Birdman,
Moby Grape,
Prince Buster,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flipper,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lebanon Hanover,
Morten Harket,
The Techniques,
Young Marble Giants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sight & Sound,
Wasted Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
EPMD,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Style,
FM Einheit,
Harpers Bizarre,
Loose Ends,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Stooges,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joensuu 1685,
The Kinks,
Niagra,
This Heat,
Funkadelic,
Joyce Sims,
Crime,
Liliput,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.