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 Vanuatu and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Soulsonic Force to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Lalo Schifrin,
The United States of America,
Q65,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Magma,
Mandrill,
R.M.O.,
Graham Central Station,
The Blues Magoos,
Symarip,
The Standells,
Yellowson,
The Red Krayola,
Agitation Free,
Sparks,
Neu!,
Lou Reed,
Anakelly,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bluetip,
The Durutti Column,
Porter Ricks,
The Fugs,
Bobbi Humphrey,
OOIOO,
Joe Finger,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pylon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Blake Baxter,
Moss Icon,
Grey Daturas,
Excepter,
Ten City,
The Monks,
Byron Stingily,
Desert Stars,
the Human League,
The Move,
Make Up,
Fatback Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Procol Harum,
Rotary Connection,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jandek,
Malaria!,
Rod Modell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Max Romeo,
Masters at Work,
Arthur Verocai,
Radio Birdman,
Yaz,
The Gories,
Lower 48,
The Neon Judgement,
Das Ding,
The Leaves,
Livin' Joy,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.