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 Liechtenstein and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Parrish to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
The Shadows of Knight,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yellowson,
Sight & Sound,
Roy Ayers,
The Gories,
Stereo Dub,
Kevin Saunderson,
Television,
Cecil Taylor,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Johnny Osbourne,
June Days,
Mars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brand Nubian,
These Immortal Souls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cramps,
John Holt,
The Leaves,
Erykah Badu,
Saccharine Trust,
Visage,
Ten City,
Jesper Dahlback,
Joensuu 1685,
Heaven 17,
Moebius,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Move,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deepchord,
Harpers Bizarre,
Letta Mbulu,
Hot Snakes,
Public Enemy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Janne Schatter,
Al Stewart,
the Normal,
La Düsseldorf,
Drexciya,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lee Hazlewood,
cv313,
The Fortunes,
Peter and Kerry,
Harry Pussy,
Ultra Naté,
Aswad,
The Motions,
The Fire Engines,
Nick Fraelich,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.