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 Iraq and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Byron Stingily to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Robert Wyatt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
Arthur Verocai,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Doobie Brothers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brick,
The Sonics,
Lakeside,
Sex Pistols,
Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scrapy,
The Kinks,
Smog,
The Busters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rites of Spring,
Accadde A,
Clear Light,
Roxette,
U.S. Maple,
Brothers Johnson,
Royal Trux,
Jesper Dahlback,
Godley & Creme,
Radio Birdman,
Trumans Water,
Mandrill,
CMW,
Ronnie Foster,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Danielle Patucci,
the Germs,
Joensuu 1685,
Kaleidoscope,
the Fania All-Stars,
MDC,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harry Pussy,
Ornette Coleman,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Misunderstood,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Soft Cell,
Michelle Simonal,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Durutti Column,
Essential Logic,
Patti Smith,
DNA,
Toni Rubio,
The New Christs,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.