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 South Africa and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe 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 Model 500 to the rap 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gladiators,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Warren Ellis,
The Monks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Dirtbombs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Amon Düül II,
New Age Steppers,
Moebius,
Roy Ayers,
The Toasters,
Surgeon,
The Last Poets,
Technova,
Supertramp,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultra Naté,
Shoche,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fugs,
Derrick Morgan,
Connie Case,
Basic Channel,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tubeway Army,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang On A Can,
Eddi Front,
B.T. Express,
Joyce Sims,
Simply Red,
DNA,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Copeland,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Main Source,
Kenny Larkin,
Crime,
Masters at Work,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Maurizio,
Toni Rubio,
The Dead C,
Alphaville,
The Divine Comedy,
Wire,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Sherman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gichy Dan,
Lou Christie,
Eden Ahbez,
Yellowson,
Porter Ricks,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.