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 El Salvador and from Jakarta.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bremen.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Zapp,
Index,
Angry Samoans,
Derrick May,
Blake Baxter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eurythmics,
the Normal,
Monks,
Urselle,
Minutemen,
Ohio Players,
Archie Shepp,
B.T. Express,
The Music Machine,
The Last Poets,
Chrome,
Rapeman,
Flamin' Groovies,
China Crisis,
The Move,
Yellowson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Toasters,
Suburban Knight,
Black Sheep,
Stiv Bators,
Deepchord,
Roxy Music,
Byron Stingily,
Fatback Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ludus,
Eden Ahbez,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Q and Not U,
Whodini,
Marc Almond,
Hot Snakes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Christie,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sister Nancy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Brass Construction,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Pop Group,
Absolute Body Control,
10cc,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scientists,
Sonic Youth,
The Searchers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kayak,
Buzzcocks,
UT,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.