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 Iraq and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bar-Kays to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Kinks,
Sight & Sound,
Anakelly,
Avey Tare,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wolf Eyes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eric B and Rakim,
Visage,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Stetsasonic,
Japan,
Oneida,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Doors,
Janne Schatter,
the Sonics,
Theoretical Girls,
This Heat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gong,
Scott Walker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Johnny Clarke,
Fear,
Slave,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
Don Cherry,
Adolescents,
Al Stewart,
The Raincoats,
Newcleus,
Reuben Wilson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Invisible,
Ultra Naté,
The J.B.'s,
Skaos,
Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
Swans,
The Gories,
Depeche Mode,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lakeside,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Infiniti,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gun Club,
Trumans Water,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.