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 Uruguay and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ituana to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
This Heat,
Lee Hazlewood,
LL Cool J,
The Red Krayola,
Warsaw,
Lyres,
Roger Hodgson,
Massinfluence,
Terry Callier,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fat Boys,
John Coltrane,
David Axelrod,
Bill Wells,
The Fall,
Sixth Finger,
Minny Pops,
Quantec,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kerri Chandler,
Byron Stingily,
Lower 48,
Alison Limerick,
Jandek,
June of 44,
Desert Stars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
R.M.O.,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ludus,
Lakeside,
Pantytec,
Joe Smooth,
Shuggie Otis,
Vainqueur,
Dark Day,
Scratch Acid,
The Fugs,
JFA,
Leonard Cohen,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Velvet Underground,
Thee Headcoats,
Magma,
Hasil Adkins,
Pylon,
Erykah Badu,
Marc Almond,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tres Demented,
Isaac Hayes,
Johnny Clarke,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Residents,
Black Flag,
Connie Case,
Cameo,
Donny Hathaway,
Underground Resistance,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.