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 Bahrain and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Brand Nubian to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
The Fall,
Bizarre Inc.,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lalo Schifrin,
Intrusion,
Sandy B,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
John Holt,
Archie Shepp,
Inner City,
Popol Vuh,
Fort Wilson Riot,
CMW,
Dead Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fela Kuti,
The Sound,
Smog,
Thompson Twins,
John Coltrane,
New Order,
Tubeway Army,
Crime,
Eve St. Jones,
Scan 7,
Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
ABBA,
Scion,
Barbara Tucker,
Charles Mingus,
Gastr Del Sol,
Symarip,
Bob Dylan,
Don Cherry,
Roxy Music,
Siglo XX,
Dawn Penn,
The Golliwogs,
Steve Hackett,
Porter Ricks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Circle Jerks,
Kenny Larkin,
Flash Fearless,
Monolake,
The Residents,
Davy DMX,
Organ,
Dual Sessions,
Anthony Braxton,
Scott Walker,
The Monks,
Cheater Slicks,
The Busters,
D'Angelo,
Moss Icon,
DJ Sneak,
Fat Boys,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.