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 Turkmenistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 oboe 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 Danielle Patucci to the punk 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
Crime,
Theoretical Girls,
Bad Manners,
T.S.O.L.,
Model 500,
The Velvet Underground,
Lou Christie,
Con Funk Shun,
Malaria!,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harmonia,
Idris Muhammad,
Funky Four + One,
Bobby Byrd,
Jesper Dahlback,
Flash Fearless,
Jeff Mills,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tommy Roe,
Sarah Menescal,
Erasure,
Fugazi,
Pylon,
Gang of Four,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pharoah Sanders,
Angry Samoans,
Cameo,
Adolescents,
Thompson Twins,
Stockholm Monsters,
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Raincoats,
Rites of Spring,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lalann,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
H. Thieme,
Skriet,
Barrington Levy,
Suburban Knight,
Masters at Work,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
B.T. Express,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Sheep,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wire,
Archie Shepp,
Roy Ayers,
Tim Buckley,
These Immortal Souls,
Fatback Band,
New Order,
Minny Pops,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.