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 Grenada and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ken Boothe to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Lucky Dragons,
The Motions,
Fugazi,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultravox,
Tim Buckley,
Rekid,
H. Thieme,
Procol Harum,
Eden Ahbez,
Nik Kershaw,
Bill Wells,
Skaos,
Yusef Lateef,
Accadde A,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Steve Hackett,
The Tremeloes,
Los Fastidios,
Adolescents,
Minutemen,
The Walker Brothers,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Circle Jerks,
ABBA,
The Names,
Hasil Adkins,
Zero Boys,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sällskapet,
X-Ray Spex,
Bootsy Collins,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
The Smiths,
Crash Course in Science,
Brass Construction,
Half Japanese,
Oblivians,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Isaac Hayes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sugar Minott,
The Moody Blues,
Lungfish,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Easy Going,
Dorothy Ashby,
Erasure,
Popol Vuh,
Wings,
Parry Music,
Connie Case,
Young Marble Giants,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Pus,
The Seeds,
The Cramps,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.