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 Bhutan and from London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
The Angels of Light,
Goldenarms,
The Gap Band,
Joyce Sims,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sight & Sound,
The Last Poets,
The Buckinghams,
Black Bananas,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Faraquet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scan 7,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Piero Umiliani,
New Order,
World's Most,
The Blackbyrds,
Deepchord,
Brand Nubian,
The Leaves,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marvin Gaye,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Sherman,
Suicide,
Rekid,
Roxette,
The Star Department,
One Last Wish,
The Red Krayola,
The Moody Blues,
Ken Boothe,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
X-Ray Spex,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jimmy McGriff,
Depeche Mode,
Bauhaus,
Porter Ricks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Monks,
Lou Reed,
Shuggie Otis,
Connie Case,
Aloha Tigers,
Magazine,
A Flock of Seagulls,
ABBA,
The Shadows of Knight,
Zero Boys,
Don Cherry,
The Sonics,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.