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 Saudi Arabia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Robert Hood,
Au Pairs,
The Fire Engines,
Organ,
John Coltrane,
The American Breed,
The Dead C,
The Grass Roots,
The Knickerbockers,
Sister Nancy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
Pantaleimon,
Kas Product,
Slick Rick,
James White and The Blacks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lindisfarne,
Junior Murvin,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Flag,
Faust,
Sun Ra,
Barbara Tucker,
E-Dancer,
The Leaves,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wasted Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Godley & Creme,
Cameo,
Siglo XX,
Crash Course in Science,
World's Most,
Main Source,
Radio Birdman,
The Monochrome Set,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Subhumans,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Joyce Sims,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harmonia,
Mandrill,
the Soft Cell,
Gil Scott Heron,
B.T. Express,
Theoretical Girls,
Aaron Thompson,
Depeche Mode,
The Alarm Clocks,
Moebius,
Tubeway Army,
Sandy B,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.