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 Malaysia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 John Coltrane to the grunge 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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Agitation Free tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Robert Wyatt,
Derrick Morgan,
Dennis Brown,
Ornette Coleman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pere Ubu,
Joensuu 1685,
F. McDonald,
Organ,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bad Manners,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sugar Minott,
Maleditus Sound,
Al Stewart,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
Severed Heads,
Freddie Wadling,
Glenn Branca,
Cheater Slicks,
Schoolly D,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Colin Newman,
Stiv Bators,
the Human League,
Circle Jerks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang of Four,
Wire,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Harry Pussy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale,
Sister Nancy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tomorrow,
Ronan,
Tres Demented,
The Remains,
ABBA,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fatback Band,
Gang Starr,
Scrapy,
Steve Hackett,
the Soft Cell,
Shuggie Otis,
Davy DMX,
Soul II Soul,
Trumans Water,
World's Most,
Prince Buster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud.
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.