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 Dominican Republic and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Los Fastidios to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
Thee Headcoats,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bang On A Can,
The American Breed,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Knickerbockers,
The Remains,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Dead C,
Lungfish,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Seeds,
Ossler,
Oblivians,
The Cowsills,
The Saints,
This Heat,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bill Near,
Easy Going,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Junior Murvin,
Leonard Cohen,
The Sonics,
Brass Construction,
The Star Department,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick Morgan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Henry Cow,
Deadbeat,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Invisible,
Magma,
Charles Mingus,
The Moody Blues,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
Masters at Work,
Goldenarms,
the Normal,
Interpol,
Ultimate Spinach,
Chris & Cosey,
The Martian,
The Fuzztones,
Pussy Galore,
Connie Case,
Tears for Fears,
The Smoke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bad Manners,
The Mojo Men,
Kurtis Blow,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Boredoms,
Eric Copeland,
John Foxx,
Amon Düül,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Clarke,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.