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 Mauritania and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 David Bowie 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 Man Eating Sloth to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
OOIOO,
Television,
Magazine,
Wolf Eyes,
LL Cool J,
Pere Ubu,
Lower 48,
Spandau Ballet,
Black Flag,
Skarface,
Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
New York Dolls,
Roy Ayers,
The Mojo Men,
the Sonics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Country Teasers,
Nico,
Gil Scott Heron,
Whodini,
Blossom Toes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
U.S. Maple,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Velvet Underground,
Suburban Knight,
Nirvana,
Symarip,
John Coltrane,
Camouflage,
Alphaville,
Blancmange,
Anakelly,
Can,
Gang of Four,
Lyres,
China Crisis,
The Cowsills,
Minor Threat,
The Star Department,
Peter & Gordon,
Slave,
Howard Jones,
The Fall,
B.T. Express,
Curtis Mayfield,
Shuggie Otis,
Sex Pistols,
The Doobie Brothers,
ABC,
Soul Sonic Force,
R.M.O.,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
Agent Orange,
Eve St. Jones,
The Motions,
Popol Vuh,
Alison Limerick,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grey Daturas,
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.