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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Louis and Bebe Barron 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 The Zeros. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
U.S. Maple,
The Martian,
The J.B.'s,
Scrapy,
Camouflage,
L. Decosne,
Black Pus,
Godley & Creme,
Heaven 17,
Black Moon,
Spandau Ballet,
Rapeman,
Nick Fraelich,
The Real Kids,
Goldenarms,
Tres Demented,
Jeff Mills,
Japan,
Charles Mingus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Livin' Joy,
Marvin Gaye,
The Selecter,
Interpol,
Ludus,
Ten City,
Yaz,
Lightning Bolt,
Model 500,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gichy Dan,
The Velvet Underground,
Arthur Verocai,
Von Mondo,
Joey Negro,
Yusef Lateef,
Desert Stars,
Bluetip,
Robert Wyatt,
Slave,
Pere Ubu,
Urselle,
The Slits,
Neu!,
The Sound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hasil Adkins,
Nico,
Marshall Jefferson,
Franke,
The Durutti Column,
Scratch Acid,
The American Breed,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.