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 Israel and from Sao Paulo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Laurel Aitken to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Ralphi Rosario,
Derrick Morgan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Electric Prunes,
Funkadelic,
the Association,
Pantytec,
Los Fastidios,
Fluxion,
Dead Boys,
Freddie Wadling,
The Mojo Men,
Camberwell Now,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fuzztones,
Unwound,
Hot Snakes,
Agent Orange,
Dennis Brown,
F. McDonald,
The Pretty Things,
Josef K,
Pierre Henry,
LL Cool J,
Barry Ungar,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tommy Roe,
Hashim,
The Sound,
The Fire Engines,
Monks,
Country Teasers,
Amon Düül,
Barbara Tucker,
Joe Smooth,
U.S. Maple,
Pantaleimon,
Boredoms,
Khruangbin,
Main Source,
Shoche,
The Knickerbockers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Peter and Kerry,
The Move,
Oblivians,
The Motions,
CMW,
Marmalade,
Alton Ellis,
Severed Heads,
New York Dolls,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Cale,
New Age Steppers,
Joe Finger,
the Slits,
The Dead C,
The Vogues,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Happenings,
Duran Duran,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.