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 Angola and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 The Fugs to the punk 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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Amazonics,
Max Romeo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
Y Pants,
K-Klass,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Selecter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nation of Ulysses,
ABBA,
Warren Ellis,
Dead Boys,
Donald Byrd,
Con Funk Shun,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Five Americans,
Pylon,
Mo-Dettes,
Q65,
the Slits,
Barbara Tucker,
D'Angelo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wolf Eyes,
Ken Boothe,
Simply Red,
In Retrospect,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Grass Roots,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Searchers,
Livin' Joy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Skaos,
Popol Vuh,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Girls At Our Best!,
Chris Corsano,
Mr. Review,
Cameo,
H. Thieme,
The Detroit Cobras,
Deepchord,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Dark Day,
Inner City,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lyres,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cramps,
The Raincoats,
Bluetip,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Steve Hackett,
The Misunderstood,
Slick Rick,
Joensuu 1685,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.