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 Madagascar and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Gang of Four to the rock 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Tears for Fears,
Tommy Roe,
Whodini,
Pere Ubu,
Shoche,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
PIL,
ABC,
World's Most,
The Seeds,
Unwound,
Camouflage,
Michelle Simonal,
Vladislav Delay,
Jandek,
The Blackbyrds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
MC5,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gun Club,
The Moody Blues,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
Jerry's Kids,
Supertramp,
Blake Baxter,
The Cure,
The Invisible,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Cale,
DNA,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Buckinghams,
Frankie Knuckles,
Slick Rick,
Ronan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Angry Samoans,
Crash Course in Science,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pulsallama,
Yusef Lateef,
Lucky Dragons,
Bobby Byrd,
Los Fastidios,
Theoretical Girls,
China Crisis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fad Gadget,
Sight & Sound,
Jacob Miller,
Hashim,
The Blues Magoos,
Jawbox,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Alphaville,
The Sonics,
Ponytail,
Johnny Clarke,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.