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 Tajikistan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cramps to the crunk 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eve St. Jones,
New Age Steppers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Birthday Party,
Radiohead,
Ten City,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mantronix,
The Victims,
Y Pants,
Reuben Wilson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scion,
Cecil Taylor,
Amazonics,
Minnie Riperton,
Vladislav Delay,
John Coltrane,
The Gun Club,
The Slackers,
Con Funk Shun,
Eli Mardock,
Spandau Ballet,
the Soft Cell,
Sixth Finger,
The Barracudas,
Siglo XX,
Janne Schatter,
The Remains,
Ornette Coleman,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sister Nancy,
Gabor Szabo,
Toni Rubio,
Electric Prunes,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Selecter,
Nirvana,
Michelle Simonal,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neu!,
Los Fastidios,
Pharoah Sanders,
Albert Ayler,
Marine Girls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Brothers Johnson,
Monolake,
Babytalk,
Patti Smith,
Animal Collective,
Lee Hazlewood,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Red Krayola,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.