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 China and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Donald Fagen 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minor Threat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cluster,
the Fania All-Stars,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kayak,
T.S.O.L.,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Traffic Nightmare,
Crooked Eye,
Adolescents,
Harry Pussy,
The Offenders,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Velvet Underground,
Godley & Creme,
The Tremeloes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Quadrant,
Hoover,
Hashim,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rekid,
Terry Callier,
Skriet,
Yazoo,
Graham Central Station,
Joe Finger,
Chrome,
Amon Düül,
Bang On A Can,
Tommy Roe,
The Wake,
Half Japanese,
Absolute Body Control,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moss Icon,
Max Romeo,
World's Most,
Q65,
Stiv Bators,
Vladislav Delay,
Lower 48,
Clear Light,
Zero Boys,
Loose Ends,
John Coltrane,
Rotary Connection,
Black Bananas,
Fatback Band,
Au Pairs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Animal Collective,
Desert Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
A Certain Ratio,
The Litter,
The American Breed,
Ultravox,
Lindisfarne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Index,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.