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 Micronesia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Marc Almond to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
Mad Mike,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Warren Ellis,
The Standells,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roy Ayers,
Matthew Bourne,
Mission of Burma,
The Last Poets,
The Dead C,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gichy Dan,
the Swans,
The Selecter,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Smoke,
The Seeds,
Kurtis Blow,
Avey Tare,
The Black Dice,
Arthur Verocai,
Wings,
DJ Style,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Junior Murvin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Banda Bassotti,
The Pop Group,
Scrapy,
Essential Logic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Davy DMX,
The Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Brand Nubian,
The Beau Brummels,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacob Miller,
Reuben Wilson,
Funky Four + One,
the Human League,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Franke,
Monolake,
Hasil Adkins,
Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
Japan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Starr,
Yaz,
The Associates,
Isaac Hayes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joy Division,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.