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 Grenada and from New York.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ludus to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang Green,
Drive Like Jehu,
David McCallum,
Boredoms,
Don Cherry,
Robert Wyatt,
The Real Kids,
Flash Fearless,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ralphi Rosario,
cv313,
Lucky Dragons,
Joyce Sims,
Kaleidoscope,
Blossom Toes,
Nico,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Todd Rundgren,
Babytalk,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eve St. Jones,
Jawbox,
The Birthday Party,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mr. Review,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Offenders,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lyres,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Swans,
Arthur Verocai,
The Evens,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Todd Terry,
Eurythmics,
Shoche,
Eli Mardock,
Warsaw,
Brass Construction,
Minutemen,
Amon Düül,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sonic Youth,
Slick Rick,
Robert Hood,
Malaria!,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lee Hazlewood,
Godley & Creme,
Lower 48,
The Black Dice,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bill Near,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Aloha Tigers,
Slave,
Pulsallama,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.