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 Cameroon and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lee Hazlewood to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gories,
Marmalade,
The Flesh Eaters,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Donald Byrd,
Godley & Creme,
The Wake,
Pussy Galore,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Von Mondo,
the Slits,
Michelle Simonal,
The Trojans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
Q and Not U,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Moby Grape,
The Slits,
Eddi Front,
Con Funk Shun,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Alphaville,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Remains,
Ken Boothe,
Mark Hollis,
Alton Ellis,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cramps,
Kaleidoscope,
Lower 48,
The Residents,
Sällskapet,
KRS-One,
Rod Modell,
New York Dolls,
Talk Talk,
Rekid,
Pole,
Radiohead,
Sarah Menescal,
Minutemen,
Skaos,
The Happenings,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxette,
The New Christs,
The Index,
Severed Heads,
The Beau Brummels,
June of 44,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terry Callier,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Five Americans,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.