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 Bangladesh and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Man Parrish,
Cymande,
Joy Division,
Qualms,
Pole,
The Move,
Unwound,
Grey Daturas,
New Age Steppers,
Boz Scaggs,
Oblivians,
Kayak,
Lucky Dragons,
The Dave Clark Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Schoolly D,
John Coltrane,
the Swans,
June of 44,
Mr. Review,
The Sound,
Babytalk,
Danielle Patucci,
Sarah Menescal,
The Detroit Cobras,
Quando Quango,
B.T. Express,
Todd Terry,
Siglo XX,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Shadows of Knight,
DJ Sneak,
Wolf Eyes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Sherman,
Jimmy McGriff,
Visage,
Avey Tare,
Subhumans,
Bobby Byrd,
Donny Hathaway,
Quadrant,
Rosa Yemen,
Sparks,
Ken Boothe,
The Selecter,
The Fuzztones,
The Wake,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sex Pistols,
The Alarm Clocks,
Television Personalities,
Crooked Eye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gories,
Lightning Bolt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lyres,
Motorama,
Gong,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.