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 Malawi and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Crispy Ambulance to the crunk 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Gerry Rafferty,
ABC,
The Offenders,
Roy Ayers,
Ronnie Foster,
the Germs,
World's Most,
Ultravox,
Symarip,
Motorama,
Girls At Our Best!,
Todd Terry,
Ronan,
Sällskapet,
Oblivians,
Rod Modell,
Whodini,
Donald Byrd,
Second Layer,
Ten City,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
In Retrospect,
Eric Dolphy,
Infiniti,
The Leaves,
Depeche Mode,
Jeff Lynne,
Warsaw,
The Martian,
The United States of America,
Pagans,
Lyres,
the Slits,
AZ,
Newcleus,
Fad Gadget,
Ash Ra Tempel,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dead C,
Sun Ra,
Soul Sonic Force,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sound Behaviour,
The Red Krayola,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crime,
Roxette,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Vogues,
Alphaville,
Albert Ayler,
Scientists,
Porter Ricks,
Sun City Girls,
The Fugs,
Interpol,
Gichy Dan,
Marshall Jefferson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Trumans Water,
Technova,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.