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 Nauru and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes 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 Gabor Szabo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
The Five Americans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Sheep,
Roxette,
Lee Hazlewood,
Royal Trux,
Godley & Creme,
The Remains,
Ronnie Foster,
The Kinks,
T.S.O.L.,
Interpol,
Soul Sonic Force,
Beasts of Bourbon,
R.M.O.,
Quadrant,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
World's Most,
In Retrospect,
Blossom Toes,
The Gories,
Mars,
Soft Cell,
Derrick May,
Camouflage,
Mad Mike,
Sarah Menescal,
Barry Ungar,
Rites of Spring,
The J.B.'s,
Qualms,
Mr. Review,
Joensuu 1685,
Juan Atkins,
The Happenings,
Swans,
Loose Ends,
Patti Smith,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pretty Things,
Ronan,
Jawbox,
Livin' Joy,
ABBA,
Joy Division,
Basic Channel,
Underground Resistance,
Bush Tetras,
The Skatalites,
Matthew Halsall,
Joe Finger,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stiv Bators,
John Foxx,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mojo Men,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.