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 Nigeria and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brick to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Anthony Braxton,
The Birthday Party,
Arthur Verocai,
Aural Exciters,
Easy Going,
Slave,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Shoche,
June Days,
Zapp,
Nils Olav,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cowsills,
Morten Harket,
Brass Construction,
Minutemen,
Moby Grape,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Chrome,
New York Dolls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Hood,
Severed Heads,
The Leaves,
Grauzone,
Radiohead,
The Human League,
Judy Mowatt,
Lou Reed,
Derrick May,
Boz Scaggs,
Sandy B,
Lebanon Hanover,
Urselle,
Steve Hackett,
Trumans Water,
The Selecter,
Jeff Lynne,
The Evens,
The Angels of Light,
Stetsasonic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dennis Brown,
Black Pus,
Popol Vuh,
Bad Manners,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Henry Cow,
World's Most,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deakin,
Barry Ungar,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Durutti Column,
Aaron Thompson,
Royal Trux,
Hashim,
Sister Nancy,
Goldenarms,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.