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 Croatia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro 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 Depeche Mode to the techno 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron 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 theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Terrestrial Tones,
Metal Thangz,
Jeff Lynne,
Yusef Lateef,
Cybotron,
The Count Five,
Sun City Girls,
Hardrive,
Nico,
the Normal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Make Up,
H. Thieme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fat Boys,
Black Bananas,
Public Enemy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sandy B,
In Retrospect,
The Dirtbombs,
Joy Division,
Scion,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Sheep,
Mr. Review,
The Sound,
Roxette,
the Soft Cell,
Vladislav Delay,
Aswad,
Soul Sonic Force,
June Days,
Maleditus Sound,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Motions,
Fad Gadget,
Freddie Wadling,
The Doors,
Severed Heads,
Pole,
Gang of Four,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mad Mike,
Black Flag,
Albert Ayler,
Goldenarms,
Archie Shepp,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drexciya,
Josef K,
Bill Wells,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cameo,
JFA,
Lindisfarne,
Symarip,
Delta 5,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.