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 Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manila.
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 synthesizer 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 The Searchers to the rap 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 The Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Tommy Roe,
Derrick Morgan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Subhumans,
Aural Exciters,
Eddi Front,
Nils Olav,
Man Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Dead Boys,
Todd Terry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Reuben Wilson,
La Düsseldorf,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ponytail,
Sister Nancy,
Lalann,
EPMD,
Interpol,
Ludus,
Kurtis Blow,
Reagan Youth,
Livin' Joy,
A Certain Ratio,
The Wake,
AZ,
Leonard Cohen,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Human League,
Pussy Galore,
The Skatalites,
Ken Boothe,
Howard Jones,
K-Klass,
Amazonics,
Funky Four + One,
cv313,
The Standells,
Isaac Hayes,
Mandrill,
The Blackbyrds,
Thee Headcoats,
Tears for Fears,
Robert Wyatt,
Grandmaster Flash,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Andrew Hill,
Piero Umiliani,
Man Eating Sloth,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
Model 500,
These Immortal Souls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Electric Prunes,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.