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 Congo and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the oboe 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the grime 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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soulsonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Khruangbin,
Arthur Verocai,
Jeru the Damaja,
Talk Talk,
Tom Boy,
Robert Hood,
Moby Grape,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Country Teasers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sight & Sound,
T. Rex,
Bob Dylan,
Lungfish,
Crime,
Ultravox,
Quantec,
The Wake,
Wolf Eyes,
Roxy Music,
Nick Fraelich,
Vladislav Delay,
Excepter,
Massinfluence,
Neil Young,
Franke,
PIL,
Jacques Brel,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Simply Red,
Eve St. Jones,
The Associates,
Wasted Youth,
Jeff Lynne,
Suicide,
Inner City,
The Divine Comedy,
Electric Prunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bluetip,
Circle Jerks,
Visage,
Ice-T,
Gregory Isaacs,
Little Man,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Sherman,
Mad Mike,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pantytec,
Guru Guru,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kurtis Blow,
Soulsonic Force,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Leaves,
The Litter,
Boogie Down Productions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.