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 El Salvador and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the techno 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Sheep,
KRS-One,
The Sound,
Scion,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
June Days,
The Happenings,
Junior Murvin,
Ossler,
Pantaleimon,
John Coltrane,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Flag,
Malaria!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Evens,
Smog,
Sällskapet,
Unwound,
Ornette Coleman,
Darondo,
Sparks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ronan,
Peter & Gordon,
Stiv Bators,
Don Cherry,
Hardrive,
The Tremeloes,
Loose Ends,
The Gap Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Alison Limerick,
Jacques Brel,
The Sonics,
U.S. Maple,
Pole,
Charles Mingus,
Shuggie Otis,
Mr. Review,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Young Rascals,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nils Olav,
Pussy Galore,
Suburban Knight,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Monochrome Set,
Fear,
Masters at Work,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Popol Vuh,
Easy Going,
EPMD,
Joyce Sims,
Terry Callier,
Pulsallama,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.