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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
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 Donald Fagen 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Oneida. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Second Layer,
Outsiders,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Andrew Hill,
T.S.O.L.,
Faust,
R.M.O.,
Dave Gahan,
The Saints,
Wire,
The Tremeloes,
The Fuzztones,
Nirvana,
Magma,
Reuben Wilson,
The Move,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Cale,
The Victims,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
New York Dolls,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Birthday Party,
Simply Red,
Todd Rundgren,
The Monks,
The Associates,
Circle Jerks,
MDC,
Soul II Soul,
Yusef Lateef,
Bootsy Collins,
Bronski Beat,
Unwound,
Barbara Tucker,
Q65,
Skaos,
June Days,
Jeff Lynne,
Prince Buster,
The Pop Group,
Bauhaus,
Donald Byrd,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fugs,
The United States of America,
La Düsseldorf,
Albert Ayler,
The Buckinghams,
Index,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ossler,
Davy DMX,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.