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 Guatemala and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Remains to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Swell Maps. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
John Foxx,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Henry Cow,
Au Pairs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
Infiniti,
Mark Hollis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Delta 5,
Al Stewart,
Piero Umiliani,
The Martian,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Barracudas,
Arcadia,
Thee Headcoats,
The Alarm Clocks,
Chris Corsano,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
In Retrospect,
Colin Newman,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fad Gadget,
FM Einheit,
Desert Stars,
KRS-One,
Johnny Clarke,
Amazonics,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
LL Cool J,
The Beau Brummels,
the Slits,
Bush Tetras,
Silicon Teens,
Inner City,
Essential Logic,
kango's stein massive,
DJ Style,
Buzzcocks,
Max Romeo,
Second Layer,
MC5,
Loose Ends,
Schoolly D,
Joe Smooth,
The Standells,
Metal Thangz,
Skaos,
R.M.O.,
Tears for Fears,
Donny Hathaway,
Roy Ayers,
Subhumans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crime,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.