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 Pakistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 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 New Age Steppers to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Glenn Branca,
Danielle Patucci,
Massinfluence,
Los Fastidios,
The Modern Lovers,
F. McDonald,
Barbara Tucker,
Maleditus Sound,
Jerry's Kids,
Stockholm Monsters,
Carl Craig,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Stooges,
Henry Cow,
ABC,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gladiators,
Ornette Coleman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pagans,
New Order,
Archie Shepp,
Fad Gadget,
the Human League,
Ken Boothe,
Kas Product,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Q and Not U,
Trumans Water,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Moby Grape,
Soul II Soul,
the Normal,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Graham Central Station,
Motorama,
Fear,
Bill Near,
Depeche Mode,
The Offenders,
The Neon Judgement,
Gichy Dan,
Mandrill,
Thompson Twins,
Marvin Gaye,
Bluetip,
The Red Krayola,
Nils Olav,
Barry Ungar,
Lou Christie,
The Saints,
Aswad,
Section 25,
The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band.
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.