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 Iraq and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 spring reverb 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 Hot Snakes to the punk 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Los Fastidios,
The Offenders,
The Velvet Underground,
DNA,
Flash Fearless,
Adolescents,
JFA,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Boredoms,
Intrusion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Drive Like Jehu,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Peter & Gordon,
Icehouse,
Spandau Ballet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kool Moe Dee,
New Order,
Technova,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bob Dylan,
Lou Reed,
Q65,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Make Up,
Man Parrish,
Drexciya,
Skriet,
Don Cherry,
Godley & Creme,
Ossler,
Lalann,
Pantaleimon,
Nik Kershaw,
Hashim,
Urselle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ituana,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Barbara Tucker,
Severed Heads,
Lucky Dragons,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultravox,
Matthew Bourne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Procol Harum,
The Last Poets,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Unwound,
48th St. Collective,
Roy Ayers,
AZ,
The Flesh Eaters,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.