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 Yemen and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Ohio Players to the crunk 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Fad Gadget,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Offenders,
Cymande,
The Golliwogs,
Scrapy,
Cal Tjader,
The Last Poets,
Hot Snakes,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Dirtbombs,
Colin Newman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Glenn Branca,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Skriet,
Yellowson,
Amazonics,
Eden Ahbez,
Roxette,
The Divine Comedy,
Franke,
Kenny Larkin,
Symarip,
Black Bananas,
Spandau Ballet,
John Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dawn Penn,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The United States of America,
Ken Boothe,
Sound Behaviour,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Flipper,
The Velvet Underground,
Derrick Morgan,
Sex Pistols,
The Motions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Standells,
The Index,
The Gladiators,
Lou Christie,
Amon Düül,
John Cale,
Nirvana,
Isaac Hayes,
David Bowie,
Groovy Waters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Germs,
Flash Fearless,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sparks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Q65,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.