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 Mexico and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grime 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Al Stewart,
Electric Prunes,
Derrick Morgan,
The Move,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Flag,
Mark Hollis,
The Smoke,
Ken Boothe,
JFA,
Average White Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bill Wells,
the Germs,
Robert Hood,
Steve Hackett,
Faust,
Marmalade,
Malaria!,
Mo-Dettes,
Duran Duran,
Yazoo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Motorama,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Mills,
The Kinks,
Deakin,
Groovy Waters,
a-ha,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
E-Dancer,
Dorothy Ashby,
James White and The Blacks,
Dennis Brown,
Masters at Work,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pole,
Piero Umiliani,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aaron Thompson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Selecter,
Bobby Sherman,
The Barracudas,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bush Tetras,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
ABBA,
Soft Machine,
Intrusion,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dirtbombs,
kango's stein massive,
La Düsseldorf,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
Bauhaus,
Lightning Bolt,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.