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 Micronesia 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Inner City to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
CMW,
Scott Walker,
Wolf Eyes,
Schoolly D,
New Age Steppers,
Tears for Fears,
The Smiths,
Monolake,
The Gladiators,
Boz Scaggs,
Ice-T,
Brand Nubian,
The Saints,
David Axelrod,
Jeff Lynne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Evens,
Marmalade,
The Fuzztones,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fear,
Alton Ellis,
T.S.O.L.,
Eli Mardock,
New York Dolls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Masters at Work,
UT,
Japan,
Harry Pussy,
Archie Shepp,
Duran Duran,
The Wake,
Bang On A Can,
Bill Near,
Arthur Verocai,
John Cale,
Black Sheep,
DNA,
These Immortal Souls,
Hasil Adkins,
Blancmange,
The Slits,
Steve Hackett,
Isaac Hayes,
The Last Poets,
Circle Jerks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jawbox,
The Misunderstood,
D'Angelo,
Sun Ra,
Pantaleimon,
Fat Boys,
Motorama,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deakin,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.