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 Somalia and from Houston.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Marine Girls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Tom Boy,
Icehouse,
World's Most,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
Negative Approach,
Cal Tjader,
Erasure,
The Walker Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Susan Cadogan,
Thee Headcoats,
Marine Girls,
Glenn Branca,
The Flesh Eaters,
Vladislav Delay,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Toni Rubio,
Soul Sonic Force,
Brothers Johnson,
Supertramp,
Symarip,
Crime,
Andrew Hill,
Matthew Bourne,
Hot Snakes,
H. Thieme,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Smoke,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Pus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hoover,
Infiniti,
Trumans Water,
The Remains,
Quando Quango,
Newcleus,
John Holt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jandek,
Robert Görl,
Graham Central Station,
Piero Umiliani,
Big Daddy Kane,
The New Christs,
Television Personalities,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tropical Tobacco,
Al Stewart,
Pylon,
Warren Ellis,
Scientists,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Index,
Masters at Work,
Moss Icon,
Tommy Roe,
Henry Cow,
the Association,
Q65,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.