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 Slovenia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Popol Vuh,
Bizarre Inc.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fat Boys,
Donald Byrd,
Boredoms,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tim Buckley,
The Searchers,
Bang On A Can,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kayak,
Camouflage,
The Star Department,
The American Breed,
Yellowson,
LL Cool J,
Kool Moe Dee,
Davy DMX,
Crime,
Con Funk Shun,
Amazonics,
X-101,
D'Angelo,
Rites of Spring,
Kenny Larkin,
The Music Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Tres Demented,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mr. Review,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scan 7,
Arab on Radar,
Moebius,
The Angels of Light,
Rod Modell,
The Beau Brummels,
Duran Duran,
Mandrill,
Judy Mowatt,
Eric Dolphy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Depeche Mode,
T. Rex,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
In Retrospect,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thee Headcoats,
Sonic Youth,
The Fugs,
Camberwell Now,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.