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 Poland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba 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 Todd Terry to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Deadbeat,
Liliput,
Kerri Chandler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Clear Light,
Black Pus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Blancmange,
Rapeman,
Heaven 17,
Janne Schatter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Skatalites,
The Last Poets,
Nirvana,
The Grass Roots,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Sherman,
Sarah Menescal,
Unwound,
Reuben Wilson,
The Monochrome Set,
Cal Tjader,
Glenn Branca,
CMW,
Wings,
One Last Wish,
Main Source,
Jimmy McGriff,
EPMD,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Cale,
T. Rex,
Camouflage,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mr. Review,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Soft Cell,
Wally Richardson,
Spoonie Gee,
Shuggie Otis,
Charles Mingus,
Amon Düül,
Tom Boy,
Kayak,
Bad Manners,
Duran Duran,
Kenny Larkin,
Porter Ricks,
John Lydon,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Barracudas,
Suicide,
Matthew Bourne,
Visage,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.