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 Russia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 June of 44 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Con Funk Shun,
The Beau Brummels,
Skarface,
Swans,
The Angels of Light,
Sonny Sharrock,
Liliput,
Lalann,
The Fugs,
the Association,
Accadde A,
The Leaves,
Porter Ricks,
Young Marble Giants,
The Saints,
The Standells,
Bluetip,
Susan Cadogan,
R.M.O.,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gories,
Fluxion,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roxette,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Golliwogs,
Neu!,
New York Dolls,
Cameo,
Joe Smooth,
Heaven 17,
The Velvet Underground,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kerri Chandler,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Techniques,
Magma,
The Real Kids,
Crooked Eye,
The Buckinghams,
Inner City,
Oneida,
Funkadelic,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Agent Orange,
Todd Rundgren,
Angry Samoans,
Bill Wells,
Kayak,
The Busters,
Oblivians,
Crime,
The Stooges,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Wake,
The Blues Magoos,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.