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 Azerbaijan and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Matthew Halsall to the rock 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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cal Tjader,
Hoover,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Khruangbin,
Barrington Levy,
Eurythmics,
The Buckinghams,
Joensuu 1685,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Associates,
Prince Buster,
One Last Wish,
The American Breed,
Kevin Saunderson,
Suicide,
Faust,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dual Sessions,
Monks,
Lyres,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cramps,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
Severed Heads,
Rekid,
Roxette,
Quando Quango,
Marcia Griffiths,
Skriet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Todd Rundgren,
Bush Tetras,
This Heat,
Reagan Youth,
Ossler,
Aaron Thompson,
Scion,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Unwound,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Golliwogs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
KRS-One,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crash Course in Science,
Inner City,
Procol Harum,
The Moody Blues,
Rapeman,
Amazonics,
Make Up,
Banda Bassotti,
Bill Wells,
The Wake,
Terry Callier,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sarah Menescal,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.