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 Honduras and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Scientists,
Lower 48,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Evens,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
D'Angelo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tom Boy,
Ornette Coleman,
Subhumans,
Rufus Thomas,
Pantaleimon,
Rakim,
Sister Nancy,
Roy Ayers,
Junior Murvin,
The Stooges,
Joe Finger,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Human League,
Buzzcocks,
Crash Course in Science,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Make Up,
Amon Düül II,
the Slits,
UT,
EPMD,
The Skatalites,
Ituana,
Ludus,
Popol Vuh,
Cluster,
Lyres,
Scratch Acid,
Deadbeat,
Sarah Menescal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Moby Grape,
Depeche Mode,
The Cramps,
Yellowson,
Cymande,
Jawbox,
Hot Snakes,
Young Marble Giants,
Reuben Wilson,
Flash Fearless,
Bronski Beat,
Alton Ellis,
Jacob Miller,
Wasted Youth,
Duran Duran,
Altered Images,
Black Flag,
Michelle Simonal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Association,
The Last Poets,
The Busters,
Tubeway Army,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.