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 Serbia and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the jazz 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
X-101,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Oblivians,
Harpers Bizarre,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
X-102,
Dead Boys,
LL Cool J,
Scott Walker,
Loose Ends,
The Vogues,
Godley & Creme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
JFA,
Skarface,
UT,
Kas Product,
Outsiders,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang Gang Dance,
Boredoms,
Babytalk,
The Moody Blues,
Intrusion,
The Fugs,
Grey Daturas,
Monolake,
The Last Poets,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Searchers,
The Grass Roots,
Black Moon,
the Germs,
Deakin,
Marc Almond,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The American Breed,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Red Krayola,
Spandau Ballet,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eddi Front,
Ronnie Foster,
This Heat,
Radiohead,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Inner City,
Half Japanese,
Joey Negro,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Judy Mowatt,
Adolescents,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ludus,
Ultimate Spinach,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.