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 Namibia and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Coltrane to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Associates. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Heaven 17,
Sam Rivers,
Lightning Bolt,
Arthur Verocai,
Ornette Coleman,
Scan 7,
Yazoo,
Technova,
Anthony Braxton,
Quantec,
E-Dancer,
Bush Tetras,
Echospace,
K-Klass,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Gang Dance,
Brick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Copeland,
The Star Department,
Ken Boothe,
Model 500,
Public Enemy,
John Coltrane,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Beau Brummels,
Cheater Slicks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Qualms,
The Gun Club,
Moss Icon,
Guru Guru,
Man Eating Sloth,
In Retrospect,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Holt,
June Days,
Flipper,
EPMD,
T.S.O.L.,
The Motions,
Black Flag,
Jerry's Kids,
Fugazi,
Tres Demented,
Electric Prunes,
Mad Mike,
a-ha,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
Icehouse,
Joe Finger,
Tears for Fears,
The Electric Prunes,
Soul II Soul,
T. Rex,
Bill Wells,
Khruangbin,
Nik Kershaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.