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 France and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Barclay James Harvest to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Quadrant,
The Music Machine,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New Order,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Glenn Branca,
The Monochrome Set,
Metal Thangz,
Liliput,
Theoretical Girls,
KRS-One,
Bad Manners,
Henry Cow,
Subhumans,
Smog,
The Leaves,
The Gun Club,
Interpol,
Absolute Body Control,
X-101,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Pus,
The Seeds,
Vladislav Delay,
The Divine Comedy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Panda Bear,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bush Tetras,
Chrome,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Al Stewart,
Country Teasers,
Marc Almond,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Byrd,
The Detroit Cobras,
Echospace,
The Residents,
X-Ray Spex,
Mantronix,
Model 500,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jimmy McGriff,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gastr Del Sol,
Con Funk Shun,
Soul II Soul,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Invisible,
Steve Hackett,
the Bar-Kays,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Hoover,
Sonic Youth,
B.T. Express,
La Düsseldorf,
The Moleskins,
Rosa Yemen,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.