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 Tajikistan and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Jimmy McGriff to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
Connie Case,
The Blues Magoos,
Flipper,
OOIOO,
Jerry's Kids,
Soulsonic Force,
John Cale,
Al Stewart,
Peter & Gordon,
Urselle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mark Hollis,
Angry Samoans,
Dark Day,
Vladislav Delay,
Dave Gahan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cecil Taylor,
Sun City Girls,
The Sound,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lower 48,
Skriet,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bobby Womack,
Livin' Joy,
Faraquet,
Patti Smith,
Deadbeat,
Idris Muhammad,
Blossom Toes,
Moebius,
B.T. Express,
Roy Ayers,
Motorama,
Public Enemy,
The Searchers,
World's Most,
Tommy Roe,
The Skatalites,
The Blackbyrds,
The Offenders,
New York Dolls,
Talk Talk,
Eddi Front,
Black Pus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gang of Four,
The Angels of Light,
X-101,
The Mummies,
The Modern Lovers,
The Toasters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Byrd,
The Slackers,
Black Bananas,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.