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 Portugal and from New York.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Drexciya,
Metal Thangz,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Juan Atkins,
U.S. Maple,
The Motions,
Rod Modell,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Make Up,
Aswad,
The Modern Lovers,
The Offenders,
Reagan Youth,
Bill Near,
The Vogues,
Blancmange,
Deepchord,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nick Fraelich,
Subhumans,
The Mummies,
Au Pairs,
The Monks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gastr Del Sol,
Funky Four + One,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lungfish,
Bronski Beat,
Can,
World's Most,
The Smiths,
Masters at Work,
Cameo,
Robert Görl,
Bootsy Collins,
Heaven 17,
a-ha,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Index,
Guru Guru,
Hot Snakes,
Michelle Simonal,
Unwound,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Leonard Cohen,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Gladiators,
Jerry's Kids,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Starr,
Con Funk Shun,
Funkadelic,
The Red Krayola,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.