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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Newcleus to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
Fat Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Victims,
Mantronix,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
John Cale,
Minor Threat,
Arthur Verocai,
Make Up,
Stockholm Monsters,
Simply Red,
Joey Negro,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Dual Sessions,
Rapeman,
Panda Bear,
The Doobie Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Mad Mike,
a-ha,
Reuben Wilson,
Crooked Eye,
Audionom,
Darondo,
Erasure,
Fad Gadget,
EPMD,
The Music Machine,
Brass Construction,
Throbbing Gristle,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Scrapy,
Ralphi Rosario,
DJ Sneak,
Scratch Acid,
Shoche,
Oneida,
Jesper Dahlback,
Reagan Youth,
Motorama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wally Richardson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hot Snakes,
The Black Dice,
10cc,
The Slits,
Excepter,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oblivians,
Bill Near,
Barclay James Harvest,
Amazonics,
the Sonics,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Little Man,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.