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 Malaysia and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eve St. Jones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Chris Corsano,
Symarip,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roxy Music,
Kurtis Blow,
Lungfish,
Theoretical Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Barry Ungar,
Agent Orange,
Scrapy,
Alphaville,
Soft Cell,
The Gories,
The Smoke,
Lee Hazlewood,
F. McDonald,
Godley & Creme,
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive,
Black Sheep,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Drexciya,
Marshall Jefferson,
Smog,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scientists,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Severed Heads,
Albert Ayler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Groovy Waters,
Gabor Szabo,
Shuggie Otis,
Eric Dolphy,
Oneida,
Skaos,
Parry Music,
New Order,
Peter and Kerry,
Pierre Henry,
Sparks,
Black Bananas,
The Cramps,
The Dave Clark Five,
Y Pants,
Pantytec,
The Music Machine,
David McCallum,
Sight & Sound,
Banda Bassotti,
Slave,
Erasure,
Sandy B,
Television Personalities,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Flag,
Dark Day,
Lyres,
Angry Samoans,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.