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 Paraguay and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 ABC 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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Byrd,
Reagan Youth,
Infiniti,
Sam Rivers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sparks,
Mantronix,
Jawbox,
The Mojo Men,
Guru Guru,
Frankie Knuckles,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tomorrow,
The Sound,
MDC,
The Victims,
Main Source,
The Litter,
Chrome,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Pus,
The Real Kids,
Bronski Beat,
Flipper,
Scrapy,
Sister Nancy,
UT,
Young Marble Giants,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Knickerbockers,
Shoche,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
T. Rex,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Black Dice,
Harpers Bizarre,
Man Eating Sloth,
Smog,
Crash Course in Science,
Babytalk,
The Saints,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cluster,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Buzzcocks,
The Velvet Underground,
The Angels of Light,
Fatback Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Theoretical Girls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marmalade,
KRS-One,
Donny Hathaway,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.