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 Somalia and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the rock 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
The Neon Judgement,
Mission of Burma,
Crime,
Lou Christie,
Symarip,
Warsaw,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Five Americans,
Joe Smooth,
Mandrill,
Radio Birdman,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
Popol Vuh,
The Tremeloes,
The Young Rascals,
Traffic Nightmare,
Chris Corsano,
Au Pairs,
T.S.O.L.,
UT,
Avey Tare,
Neil Young,
Dave Gahan,
Scion,
Urselle,
Joe Finger,
The American Breed,
Goldenarms,
David McCallum,
The Cure,
The Blackbyrds,
Fad Gadget,
Intrusion,
Section 25,
The Techniques,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grey Daturas,
China Crisis,
the Swans,
John Coltrane,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Detroit Cobras,
Malaria!,
The Stooges,
Nils Olav,
Basic Channel,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masters at Work,
Rites of Spring,
Outsiders,
Bad Manners,
Groovy Waters,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Bar-Kays,
the Normal,
R.M.O.,
Bill Near,
Scrapy,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.