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 Turkmenistan and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba 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 Graham Central Station to the funk 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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Robert Wyatt,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Masters at Work,
The Gap Band,
Jandek,
The Cure,
Reagan Youth,
Lindisfarne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ludus,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fatback Band,
The Happenings,
The Martian,
Laurel Aitken,
The Barracudas,
Scratch Acid,
Y Pants,
Kas Product,
Hoover,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maurizio,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jacques Brel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Underground Resistance,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Red Krayola,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Electric Prunes,
Byron Stingily,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stereo Dub,
Brand Nubian,
Roxette,
Pylon,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
X-Ray Spex,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Absolute Body Control,
The Wake,
Bang On A Can,
The United States of America,
Black Flag,
The Smiths,
Altered Images,
Stiv Bators,
Procol Harum,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Neil Young,
Gastr Del Sol,
LL Cool J,
The Stooges,
Groovy Waters,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.