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 Uruguay and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lalo Schifrin to the grunge 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Parry Music,
Dark Day,
The Music Machine,
Cameo,
Radiopuhelimet,
Adolescents,
Boogie Down Productions,
AZ,
Siglo XX,
Yazoo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Motorama,
Quando Quango,
Outsiders,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mo-Dettes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxette,
Flipper,
Swell Maps,
Joey Negro,
Unwound,
Sixth Finger,
Fear,
Brand Nubian,
Cymande,
Robert Görl,
Roxy Music,
A Certain Ratio,
Quantec,
Rufus Thomas,
Piero Umiliani,
Con Funk Shun,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Y Pants,
The Raincoats,
David Bowie,
Morten Harket,
Banda Bassotti,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Barry Ungar,
Groovy Waters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Excepter,
Deadbeat,
The Golliwogs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Hot Snakes,
Urselle,
David Axelrod,
The Mummies,
The Real Kids,
Kevin Saunderson,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Saints,
Stetsasonic,
Bill Near,
T. Rex,
Pole,
The Sound,
Amon Düül,
Kurtis Blow,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.