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 Philippines and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Absolute Body Control to the punk 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Leonard Cohen,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Knickerbockers,
Urselle,
Subhumans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barbara Tucker,
The Motions,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Delon & Dalcan,
Average White Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rod Modell,
Theoretical Girls,
Funky Four + One,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Deakin,
Hot Snakes,
Ken Boothe,
the Slits,
These Immortal Souls,
Popol Vuh,
Avey Tare,
Zero Boys,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bang On A Can,
Trumans Water,
Soulsonic Force,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eric Dolphy,
Arthur Verocai,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Names,
Magma,
Con Funk Shun,
The Stooges,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Buzzcocks,
Brand Nubian,
the Association,
Grey Daturas,
Prince Buster,
Peter & Gordon,
Lou Christie,
The Invisible,
The Blackbyrds,
Marmalade,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soft Machine,
B.T. Express,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Leaves,
Scion,
Unwound,
Jawbox,
F. McDonald,
Pantytec,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.