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 Equatorial Guinea and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Buckinghams to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Bob Dylan,
Trumans Water,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bobby Sherman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bootsy Collins,
Drive Like Jehu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dead Boys,
Max Romeo,
Gang Starr,
Quantec,
Sister Nancy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Techniques,
Crooked Eye,
Intrusion,
Niagra,
The Happenings,
Supertramp,
Porter Ricks,
Avey Tare,
The Fortunes,
Erasure,
Soul II Soul,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Neu!,
Donny Hathaway,
Sparks,
The Moody Blues,
Make Up,
New Order,
JFA,
Joensuu 1685,
Prince Buster,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crime,
The Red Krayola,
Radiohead,
The Alarm Clocks,
Glenn Branca,
Unwound,
Maleditus Sound,
The Evens,
The Angels of Light,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Josef K,
The Stooges,
Lucky Dragons,
Harpers Bizarre,
Monks,
Nirvana,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cheater Slicks,
The Selecter,
Stereo Dub,
Von Mondo,
The Offenders,
Neil Young,
Brothers Johnson,
Chris Corsano,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.