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 Cuba and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Boogie Down Productions to the grunge 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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Ultravox,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Porter Ricks,
Connie Case,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Quadrant,
Fugazi,
The Offenders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sonic Youth,
Kenny Larkin,
Jeff Mills,
The Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Pretty Things,
Crooked Eye,
Iggy Pop,
The Busters,
Sex Pistols,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Count Five,
Black Flag,
Todd Rundgren,
EPMD,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gerry Rafferty,
UT,
Duran Duran,
Carl Craig,
Black Moon,
Susan Cadogan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Talk Talk,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lebanon Hanover,
Smog,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare,
Maurizio,
Robert Hood,
Glambeats Corp.,
Make Up,
China Crisis,
Quantec,
The Happenings,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lucky Dragons,
Harry Pussy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Swans,
Niagra,
Adolescents,
Kayak,
Heaven 17,
The Fuzztones,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cal Tjader,
the Human League,
Jacob Miller,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.