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 Antigua and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Eddi Front to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
The Angels of Light,
Pulsallama,
Young Marble Giants,
Charles Mingus,
Amazonics,
Fear,
Stiv Bators,
cv313,
T.S.O.L.,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
Byron Stingily,
Gichy Dan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Chris Corsano,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Harry Pussy,
Soft Machine,
Zero Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marvin Gaye,
Goldenarms,
OOIOO,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dead Boys,
The Misunderstood,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Can,
The Mummies,
Flamin' Groovies,
Adolescents,
The United States of America,
Mars,
Bill Near,
These Immortal Souls,
Echospace,
Anakelly,
The Slackers,
Das Ding,
Blancmange,
Toni Rubio,
The Count Five,
The Neon Judgement,
Mantronix,
Susan Cadogan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lower 48,
Bush Tetras,
The Blues Magoos,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Minutemen,
Easy Going,
Deakin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sarah Menescal,
Cymande,
Harmonia,
The Human League,
Fad Gadget,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.