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 Finland and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cheater Slicks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Heaven 17,
Tom Boy,
Ken Boothe,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Charles Mingus,
Theoretical Girls,
Amazonics,
Drexciya,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joyce Sims,
Cheater Slicks,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Stereo Dub,
John Coltrane,
Pulsallama,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Quadrant,
Angry Samoans,
Youth Brigade,
MC5,
Eddi Front,
The Dirtbombs,
Talk Talk,
Carl Craig,
Hardrive,
The Martian,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mantronix,
Johnny Clarke,
Ossler,
The Smiths,
Archie Shepp,
The Gap Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Moebius,
Sandy B,
The Move,
Isaac Hayes,
Bang On A Can,
Letta Mbulu,
Lalo Schifrin,
Minutemen,
Second Layer,
Terry Callier,
Circle Jerks,
Nas,
D'Angelo,
Dennis Brown,
Dawn Penn,
Yaz,
The Selecter,
Excepter,
Pagans,
Judy Mowatt,
Tears for Fears,
Suburban Knight,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thee Headcoats,
The Smoke,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.