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 Tuvalu and from Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pulsallama to the grime 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
UT,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Swans,
Skriet,
The Pretty Things,
The Birthday Party,
U.S. Maple,
the Normal,
Pulsallama,
The Searchers,
The Monochrome Set,
Vainqueur,
The Victims,
Matthew Halsall,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Metal Thangz,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Moon,
This Heat,
Royal Trux,
Scientists,
Boredoms,
Los Fastidios,
Cybotron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Kinks,
Amazonics,
Nirvana,
Aaron Thompson,
ABBA,
Newcleus,
Eurythmics,
Warsaw,
Shuggie Otis,
Henry Cow,
Mr. Review,
Interpol,
Motorama,
Jeru the Damaja,
Infiniti,
Oblivians,
Camouflage,
The Angels of Light,
Ronnie Foster,
Buzzcocks,
Soft Machine,
Neil Young,
Oneida,
Surgeon,
The Cure,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Christie,
Gong,
Jeff Lynne,
The Smoke,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wings,
Andrew Hill,
Nas,
The Zeros,
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.