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 Mauritania and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 The Mojo Men to the dance 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
Lou Christie,
Gichy Dan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nas,
T. Rex,
Buzzcocks,
Althea and Donna,
Sound Behaviour,
Judy Mowatt,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sister Nancy,
Visage,
The Sisters of Mercy,
China Crisis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Liliput,
Bill Near,
World's Most,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rosa Yemen,
Piero Umiliani,
Joyce Sims,
R.M.O.,
Arthur Verocai,
Soft Cell,
The Leaves,
The Dead C,
Marc Almond,
Japan,
The Mojo Men,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Man Parrish,
Glenn Branca,
The Young Rascals,
Jerry's Kids,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Minor Threat,
Barrington Levy,
Cal Tjader,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science,
Sex Pistols,
Rekid,
Scientists,
The Walker Brothers,
The Electric Prunes,
Masters at Work,
Absolute Body Control,
The Knickerbockers,
Royal Trux,
Gang Gang Dance,
Roxette,
Cameo,
The Real Kids,
Groovy Waters,
The Victims,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.