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 Angola and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Oblivians to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Bluetip,
Dorothy Ashby,
Animal Collective,
Pussy Galore,
Nik Kershaw,
China Crisis,
Arcadia,
B.T. Express,
Cluster,
The Leaves,
This Heat,
The Sound,
Juan Atkins,
Black Bananas,
Black Moon,
Neu!,
Amon Düül,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
New York Dolls,
Motorama,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Crime,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Martian,
Reagan Youth,
Sex Pistols,
Jeff Mills,
Circle Jerks,
Intrusion,
Pharoah Sanders,
Massinfluence,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pet Shop Boys,
Hashim,
Blake Baxter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Adolescents,
The Dead C,
Aural Exciters,
Cal Tjader,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lakeside,
Von Mondo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Echospace,
F. McDonald,
EPMD,
The Black Dice,
The Techniques,
Technova,
Pulsallama,
The Monochrome Set,
Joey Negro,
Alison Limerick,
Pylon,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.