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 Malawi and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Pulsallama to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Spandau Ballet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Moleskins,
The Gun Club,
Ornette Coleman,
Oneida,
Television Personalities,
The Monochrome Set,
David Bowie,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Harmonia,
Robert Görl,
the Association,
Eurythmics,
Bill Wells,
The Remains,
Arab on Radar,
Mark Hollis,
Simply Red,
The Golliwogs,
Radio Birdman,
X-Ray Spex,
Howard Jones,
James White and The Blacks,
The Skatalites,
Dawn Penn,
Drexciya,
X-102,
Accadde A,
June of 44,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
This Heat,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Barry Ungar,
Steve Hackett,
Theoretical Girls,
The Searchers,
The Toasters,
John Cale,
The Trojans,
Kas Product,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Deepchord,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Reagan Youth,
Q65,
The Misunderstood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
LL Cool J,
Stetsasonic,
Avey Tare,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Fania All-Stars,
Essential Logic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Shoche,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.