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 Tanzania and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Delhi.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the jazz 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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Hoover,
The Dirtbombs,
Aural Exciters,
Altered Images,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gladiators,
Parry Music,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sonic Youth,
The Raincoats,
Toni Rubio,
Robert Görl,
Eve St. Jones,
Trumans Water,
The Skatalites,
Ken Boothe,
Slave,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Boogie Down Productions,
Aloha Tigers,
Symarip,
Schoolly D,
Brass Construction,
Bill Near,
Absolute Body Control,
Bob Dylan,
Glenn Branca,
Alison Limerick,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Black Flag,
The Alarm Clocks,
Aswad,
Easy Going,
The Five Americans,
Brand Nubian,
The Last Poets,
Blossom Toes,
Television,
the Human League,
Thompson Twins,
Ten City,
Rapeman,
Lindisfarne,
Joe Smooth,
The Birthday Party,
David Axelrod,
Eric Copeland,
Todd Rundgren,
Surgeon,
Black Pus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Index,
The Blackbyrds,
Simply Red,
Byron Stingily,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Normal,
Fad Gadget,
Gil Scott Heron,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.