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 Austria and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 snare 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 The Trojans to the techno 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Little Man,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Velvet Underground,
London Community Gospel Choir,
KRS-One,
The Zeros,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Swans,
Liliput,
the Bar-Kays,
This Heat,
Al Stewart,
Rakim,
Whodini,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kayak,
Ohio Players,
The Pretty Things,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Judy Mowatt,
Blossom Toes,
Porter Ricks,
Television,
Technova,
Infiniti,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Livin' Joy,
Section 25,
Andrew Hill,
Charles Mingus,
Au Pairs,
E-Dancer,
Prince Buster,
Spandau Ballet,
Lucky Dragons,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scrapy,
The Selecter,
New Order,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nas,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Knickerbockers,
Royal Trux,
The Remains,
Ituana,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Terry Callier,
Dawn Penn,
The Blues Magoos,
UT,
Ten City,
Popol Vuh,
The Move,
Sixth Finger,
Groovy Waters,
Swell Maps,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.