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 Zimbabwe and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 John Coltrane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Can,
Moebius,
The United States of America,
Sonic Youth,
Wasted Youth,
Hashim,
the Swans,
The Last Poets,
Ultra Naté,
Ituana,
Soft Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Cramps,
Scrapy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Unwound,
DNA,
Cluster,
Prince Buster,
T.S.O.L.,
Crime,
The Kinks,
Organ,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Parry Music,
B.T. Express,
Mars,
The Fortunes,
Dave Gahan,
Blancmange,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Franke,
Jeff Mills,
Soulsonic Force,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Rekid,
Porter Ricks,
Funkadelic,
The Birthday Party,
Motorama,
The J.B.'s,
Pussy Galore,
Heaven 17,
Bootsy Collins,
Peter and Kerry,
Glenn Branca,
Mo-Dettes,
James White and The Blacks,
Sound Behaviour,
Colin Newman,
Young Marble Giants,
Nik Kershaw,
Althea and Donna,
June of 44,
Public Image Ltd.,
Boredoms,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.