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 India and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lagos.
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 snare 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 Ultra Naté to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
AZ,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Archie Shepp,
Joe Finger,
Tim Buckley,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sister Nancy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sarah Menescal,
Lucky Dragons,
Desert Stars,
Scott Walker,
Juan Atkins,
Clear Light,
Pere Ubu,
The Gun Club,
June of 44,
The Last Poets,
Circle Jerks,
Arthur Verocai,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gabor Szabo,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Misunderstood,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pylon,
B.T. Express,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Martian,
Lou Christie,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mars,
Electric Prunes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Names,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aaron Thompson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Procol Harum,
F. McDonald,
Robert Hood,
Lungfish,
Morten Harket,
The Busters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gang Starr,
Blake Baxter,
Jacob Miller,
The Fortunes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Steve Hackett,
Rosa Yemen,
Niagra,
Thompson Twins,
Dark Day,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.