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 Argentina and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Matthew Bourne,
Kenny Larkin,
Sparks,
Juan Atkins,
John Holt,
The Buckinghams,
Colin Newman,
T. Rex,
Amon Düül,
the Bar-Kays,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tropical Tobacco,
E-Dancer,
L. Decosne,
Whodini,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dual Sessions,
Cecil Taylor,
Byron Stingily,
The Cure,
Kurtis Blow,
Moebius,
Barbara Tucker,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Aural Exciters,
Arcadia,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yellowson,
Pierre Henry,
Symarip,
Radio Birdman,
Black Bananas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rekid,
Delta 5,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
B.T. Express,
Crispian St. Peters,
Babytalk,
Fat Boys,
Hot Snakes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Clear Light,
Alton Ellis,
Ponytail,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The American Breed,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Qualms,
X-101,
Flipper,
Jeff Mills,
The Toasters,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sällskapet,
Boz Scaggs,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.