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 Zambia and from New York.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Edmonton.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Byron Stingily to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Chrome,
Faust,
E-Dancer,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fortunes,
The Fall,
Barry Ungar,
Susan Cadogan,
Sexual Harrassment,
David Bowie,
The Vogues,
Rakim,
Al Stewart,
The Wake,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Urselle,
Lou Christie,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sparks,
John Holt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Barracudas,
Boz Scaggs,
Barrington Levy,
Camberwell Now,
Connie Case,
Skarface,
The Gap Band,
Franke,
Surgeon,
Eurythmics,
Prince Buster,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Bananas,
Quadrant,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lower 48,
The United States of America,
Johnny Clarke,
Carl Craig,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Goldenarms,
Bill Near,
Public Image Ltd.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cheater Slicks,
Slick Rick,
Ohio Players,
Kenny Larkin,
Jacques Brel,
Cluster,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kevin Saunderson,
Minny Pops,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.