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 Dominican Republic and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Brass Construction to the dance 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
T. Rex,
The Pretty Things,
Joyce Sims,
Peter and Kerry,
The Doors,
Anakelly,
The Searchers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Pus,
Unrelated Segments,
Swell Maps,
Laurel Aitken,
Dawn Penn,
Joe Smooth,
Skaos,
Mr. Review,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pole,
Deepchord,
Eric Copeland,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Walker Brothers,
Nico,
Moby Grape,
Godley & Creme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kas Product,
Tomorrow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Sonics,
Buzzcocks,
Chrome,
Main Source,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
B.T. Express,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Alarm Clocks,
X-101,
Moss Icon,
Bluetip,
The Gladiators,
Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Prince Buster,
The Victims,
Todd Rundgren,
Bush Tetras,
The Electric Prunes,
The Busters,
Babytalk,
Los Fastidios,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
Zero Boys,
Mad Mike,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Lydon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gregory Isaacs,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.