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 Morocco and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 rhodes 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 Negative Approach to the grunge 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fugs,
Roxy Music,
The Gladiators,
Soft Cell,
The Toasters,
Amazonics,
The Barracudas,
Heaven 17,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Deadbeat,
Skarface,
The Mummies,
Bauhaus,
Tommy Roe,
Dark Day,
The Busters,
Blossom Toes,
Sex Pistols,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dawn Penn,
X-Ray Spex,
Wally Richardson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scion,
Public Enemy,
Yazoo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fugazi,
Bill Wells,
Bang On A Can,
Urselle,
Marmalade,
The Red Krayola,
The Dirtbombs,
Jerry's Kids,
Magazine,
Marc Almond,
Deakin,
Hot Snakes,
Sparks,
A Certain Ratio,
Goldenarms,
Tears for Fears,
The Cramps,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Excepter,
Fat Boys,
Lou Christie,
The Seeds,
The Electric Prunes,
Aswad,
The Selecter,
Television Personalities,
DJ Style,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yaz,
The Residents,
R.M.O.,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.