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 Italy and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Desert Stars to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Visage,
Hashim,
Pussy Galore,
a-ha,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dorothy Ashby,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Blossom Toes,
The Victims,
The Skatalites,
The Tremeloes,
Deakin,
Anthony Braxton,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cramps,
Harmonia,
Crash Course in Science,
Jesper Dahlback,
Steve Hackett,
Aswad,
Scientists,
Hasil Adkins,
Arthur Verocai,
cv313,
Qualms,
Sex Pistols,
Nils Olav,
Eric Copeland,
Bauhaus,
Hardrive,
Average White Band,
Procol Harum,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bootsy Collins,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pharoah Sanders,
Thompson Twins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Al Stewart,
Pagans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Drexciya,
Royal Trux,
Andrew Hill,
Wings,
Rod Modell,
The Dirtbombs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Sonics,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ken Boothe,
Q and Not U,
The Five Americans,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smiths,
Brothers Johnson,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.