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 Palau and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Eden Ahbez to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tommy Roe. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MC5,
The Seeds,
Black Flag,
Quadrant,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Mummies,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Make Up,
Boredoms,
Masters at Work,
Rosa Yemen,
Max Romeo,
Ronnie Foster,
Severed Heads,
Deadbeat,
Ponytail,
E-Dancer,
Hot Snakes,
Franke,
UT,
David McCallum,
John Cale,
The Knickerbockers,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Joyce Sims,
Marmalade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Icehouse,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Five Americans,
Connie Case,
The Electric Prunes,
Joey Negro,
The Golliwogs,
Pussy Galore,
Derrick May,
The Techniques,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cymande,
The Associates,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Normal,
ABC,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Television Personalities,
The Fire Engines,
Crispy Ambulance,
These Immortal Souls,
Tears for Fears,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Malaria!,
Grauzone,
The Fuzztones,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Brothers Johnson,
The Young Rascals,
Pierre Henry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Schoolly D,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.