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 Tajikistan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Michael McDonald 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 Barracudas to the grime 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Stockholm Monsters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Graham Central Station,
Rufus Thomas,
the Sonics,
The Fortunes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Lou Christie,
The Martian,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Bananas,
Carl Craig,
The Divine Comedy,
Hashim,
Cluster,
Technova,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Womack,
Arthur Verocai,
the Soft Cell,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fall,
D'Angelo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Reuben Wilson,
Leonard Cohen,
Q65,
Rotary Connection,
Duran Duran,
The Busters,
Erykah Badu,
Suicide,
Pylon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stiv Bators,
Swell Maps,
La Düsseldorf,
The Residents,
The Red Krayola,
Wire,
Howard Jones,
Gang Starr,
Wings,
The Last Poets,
Mission of Burma,
Hoover,
John Holt,
Bill Wells,
Johnny Clarke,
Marc Almond,
Josef K,
Echospace,
The Kinks,
Lightning Bolt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Smiths,
Theoretical Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
The Invisible,
Spoonie Gee,
Siglo XX,
Charles Mingus,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.