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 Uganda and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Sonny Sharrock to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Cymande,
Babytalk,
Shoche,
The Angels of Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Cramps,
Black Sheep,
Brass Construction,
Fluxion,
Eric Copeland,
the Swans,
Drexciya,
Bill Near,
Pere Ubu,
Delta 5,
DNA,
Ice-T,
Young Marble Giants,
Aural Exciters,
Motorama,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rekid,
The Victims,
Nik Kershaw,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Altered Images,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Knickerbockers,
Josef K,
Y Pants,
Deakin,
Moss Icon,
Easy Going,
Magma,
Faraquet,
Agitation Free,
The Divine Comedy,
Surgeon,
Slick Rick,
Todd Rundgren,
The Offenders,
Man Parrish,
Pet Shop Boys,
Absolute Body Control,
The Count Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roy Ayers,
Excepter,
Organ,
The Gladiators,
Tubeway Army,
Pole,
Unwound,
Inner City,
Animal Collective,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Siglo XX,
Terry Callier,
The Dead C,
Archie Shepp,
These Immortal Souls,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.