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 Syria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Traffic Nightmare to the grunge 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
The Index,
ABC,
Michelle Simonal,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Tomorrow,
Lungfish,
Cluster,
Moby Grape,
Glenn Branca,
Kerri Chandler,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rufus Thomas,
Index,
Visage,
David Axelrod,
Patti Smith,
The Cowsills,
Pylon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fat Boys,
Harmonia,
Depeche Mode,
Swell Maps,
Sun Ra,
Big Daddy Kane,
Porter Ricks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Von Mondo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Bananas,
The Names,
The Dead C,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ronan,
Chrome,
New York Dolls,
Minor Threat,
Half Japanese,
Qualms,
Inner City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Little Man,
La Düsseldorf,
Sound Behaviour,
The Blackbyrds,
Faraquet,
The Gladiators,
The Fire Engines,
The Young Rascals,
MDC,
The Toasters,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Harry Pussy,
Graham Central Station,
Crime,
The Leaves,
Delon & Dalcan,
Radiopuhelimet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Hoover,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.