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 Cyprus and from Madrid.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin 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 Arthur Verocai to the disco 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
Carl Craig,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eve St. Jones,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Man Eating Sloth,
Zapp,
Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kool Moe Dee,
Liliput,
the Fania All-Stars,
Neil Young,
Oblivians,
The Toasters,
Excepter,
Sight & Sound,
Icehouse,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Blackbyrds,
Hasil Adkins,
Pussy Galore,
Robert Hood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Main Source,
Khruangbin,
The Motions,
Darondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Angry Samoans,
Yusef Lateef,
Smog,
Todd Terry,
Sparks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crime,
Nirvana,
Wasted Youth,
Neu!,
Japan,
Television,
Symarip,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Slick Rick,
The Tremeloes,
June Days,
Rites of Spring,
The Kinks,
The Smiths,
Wolf Eyes,
Swell Maps,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Moss Icon,
Mantronix,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Slits,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.