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 Turkmenistan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 Lyres to the jazz 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 The Wake. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Victims,
cv313,
Tres Demented,
Make Up,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Visage,
Buzzcocks,
Pole,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
Hasil Adkins,
Grey Daturas,
Arthur Verocai,
The Slits,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Tremeloes,
Junior Murvin,
Talk Talk,
Sixth Finger,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Alison Limerick,
Rod Modell,
The Mummies,
David Bowie,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ken Boothe,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Dead Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Franke,
The Zeros,
Faust,
The Searchers,
Todd Rundgren,
Fat Boys,
Man Parrish,
Cal Tjader,
Bauhaus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hoover,
This Heat,
Bad Manners,
Reagan Youth,
Slave,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Al Stewart,
the Germs,
Agent Orange,
The Gladiators,
Tears for Fears,
Joyce Sims,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Todd Terry,
Pulsallama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minor Threat,
In Retrospect,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.