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 Mexico and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Thee Headcoats to the grunge 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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Danielle Patucci,
Brick,
Neil Young,
Porter Ricks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jerry's Kids,
Goldenarms,
Aaron Thompson,
Josef K,
Can,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fela Kuti,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harry Pussy,
X-102,
Black Sheep,
Radiohead,
Malaria!,
Black Pus,
Joe Finger,
Bill Wells,
The Slackers,
Subhumans,
Matthew Bourne,
The American Breed,
The Trojans,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Susan Cadogan,
Peter and Kerry,
Archie Shepp,
Tubeway Army,
the Association,
Piero Umiliani,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Slits,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joy Division,
Quantec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Parry Music,
The Velvet Underground,
Wally Richardson,
Eli Mardock,
Frankie Knuckles,
Fear,
Don Cherry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Joe Smooth,
The Selecter,
The Stooges,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Kinks,
Qualms,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.