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 Congo and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Tim Buckley to the disco 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Ludus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moss Icon,
The Buckinghams,
Soulsonic Force,
Joe Smooth,
UT,
The Vogues,
Los Fastidios,
Ornette Coleman,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Hardrive,
Ituana,
Procol Harum,
Barbara Tucker,
Grauzone,
Kurtis Blow,
Crime,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tom Boy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Minor Threat,
The Blackbyrds,
Roy Ayers,
H. Thieme,
The Saints,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fugs,
a-ha,
The Litter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Judy Mowatt,
Wasted Youth,
Silicon Teens,
Bronski Beat,
Jandek,
Deadbeat,
the Association,
The Electric Prunes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Chris & Cosey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Aaron Thompson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pantaleimon,
The Busters,
Man Parrish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Archie Shepp,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Groovy Waters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott Heron,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rites of Spring,
The Last Poets,
Minutemen,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.