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 Czech Republic and from Mumbai.
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 Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Vogues to the disco 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Black Sheep,
The Grass Roots,
In Retrospect,
Rotary Connection,
Amon Düül II,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Flag,
Malaria!,
Rekid,
Whodini,
Robert Hood,
Adolescents,
Boredoms,
Stockholm Monsters,
Quadrant,
D'Angelo,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sex Pistols,
Sarah Menescal,
Infiniti,
Lee Hazlewood,
Don Cherry,
The Associates,
Ken Boothe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Electric Prunes,
Bluetip,
Marshall Jefferson,
Al Stewart,
Rosa Yemen,
Deepchord,
Nik Kershaw,
Charles Mingus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Moby Grape,
Sister Nancy,
The Slackers,
Organ,
Ponytail,
Deakin,
Stereo Dub,
Connie Case,
Prince Buster,
the Bar-Kays,
F. McDonald,
The Selecter,
a-ha,
Skriet,
Sun Ra,
Matthew Bourne,
Tom Boy,
Brass Construction,
The Blues Magoos,
Wally Richardson,
Vladislav Delay,
Erykah Badu,
Suicide,
Symarip,
Altered Images,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.