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 Zimbabwe and from Sao Paulo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The New Christs to the rap 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
The Music Machine,
Prince Buster,
Sixth Finger,
Animal Collective,
Pussy Galore,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rod Modell,
Traffic Nightmare,
One Last Wish,
The Alarm Clocks,
Andrew Hill,
The Litter,
Quando Quango,
Simply Red,
Country Joe & The Fish,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Görl,
Ornette Coleman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Whodini,
Yazoo,
Mo-Dettes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ohio Players,
Agitation Free,
Make Up,
Q and Not U,
Archie Shepp,
The Seeds,
Desert Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Zapp,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Skarface,
Ludus,
The Move,
Nik Kershaw,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Amon Düül,
Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crooked Eye,
Todd Rundgren,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Erykah Badu,
Goldenarms,
Suicide,
Soulsonic Force,
Pere Ubu,
Darondo,
CMW,
Leonard Cohen,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Walker Brothers,
Warsaw,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.