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 El Salvador and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the theremin 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
Hashim,
The Sonics,
Grauzone,
The Tremeloes,
The Sound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Walker Brothers,
Arthur Verocai,
Bang On A Can,
These Immortal Souls,
Metal Thangz,
Eric B and Rakim,
Trumans Water,
Ituana,
The Moleskins,
The American Breed,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roxy Music,
Junior Murvin,
Tropical Tobacco,
China Crisis,
Gichy Dan,
Steve Hackett,
Swans,
Moebius,
Dennis Brown,
Los Fastidios,
The United States of America,
The Dirtbombs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roy Ayers,
Neu!,
Pierre Henry,
Kool Moe Dee,
David Bowie,
Freddie Wadling,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cluster,
Skarface,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Leaves,
The Slits,
Ohio Players,
OOIOO,
Interpol,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Terry Callier,
F. McDonald,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soul Sonic Force,
Whodini,
The Sisters of Mercy,
K-Klass,
Alice Coltrane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Blossom Toes,
Schoolly D,
Black Pus,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.