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 Honduras and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Duran Duran to the disco 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Crooked Eye,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Misunderstood,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Khruangbin,
Audionom,
Babytalk,
Blossom Toes,
Black Moon,
The Gun Club,
Metal Thangz,
EPMD,
Radio Birdman,
Monks,
Alphaville,
Soul II Soul,
8 Eyed Spy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lebanon Hanover,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
June of 44,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cluster,
Kas Product,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Red Krayola,
The Raincoats,
A Certain Ratio,
Hardrive,
Skarface,
Moss Icon,
Chrome,
Mark Hollis,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Slits,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Grandmaster Flash,
Harmonia,
Banda Bassotti,
Arthur Verocai,
These Immortal Souls,
Underground Resistance,
Brothers Johnson,
The Monochrome Set,
Pet Shop Boys,
Young Marble Giants,
Mars,
Cybotron,
Arab on Radar,
Anthony Braxton,
10cc,
Los Fastidios,
Barclay James Harvest,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Man Parrish,
Lee Hazlewood,
F. McDonald,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Roxette,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.