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 Barbados and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stockholm Monsters to the techno 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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
The Saints,
The Last Poets,
Jawbox,
Tommy Roe,
Harmonia,
Gichy Dan,
The Raincoats,
The Cramps,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Derrick Morgan,
Q65,
Shoche,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Dead C,
Cheater Slicks,
kango's stein massive,
Terry Callier,
Quando Quango,
Circle Jerks,
Niagra,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soft Machine,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Grass Roots,
Anthony Braxton,
Rites of Spring,
Surgeon,
Roy Ayers,
The Cowsills,
Danielle Patucci,
Heaven 17,
The Fire Engines,
Dave Gahan,
Sun Ra,
Anakelly,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eric Dolphy,
The Five Americans,
Ohio Players,
Sparks,
Ice-T,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Skarface,
Duran Duran,
Cecil Taylor,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minutemen,
Pussy Galore,
New Age Steppers,
Bobby Womack,
Suburban Knight,
EPMD,
Negative Approach,
The Gap Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Janne Schatter,
The Fuzztones,
Quantec,
Bobby Byrd,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.