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 Philippines and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
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 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 Robert Palmer 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 Roger Hodgson to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Porter Ricks,
The Standells,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
June Days,
EPMD,
Rufus Thomas,
The Moleskins,
Susan Cadogan,
Rakim,
The Cowsills,
The Blues Magoos,
Stetsasonic,
Livin' Joy,
Connie Case,
Lakeside,
The Offenders,
The Grass Roots,
Rod Modell,
Derrick Morgan,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Birthday Party,
World's Most,
Rapeman,
Iggy Pop,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
Los Fastidios,
Joey Negro,
Warren Ellis,
Skaos,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ornette Coleman,
Neu!,
Marine Girls,
Bill Wells,
Prince Buster,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Görl,
The Remains,
The Kinks,
Lungfish,
Simply Red,
Bang On A Can,
Archie Shepp,
Delon & Dalcan,
Althea and Donna,
The Leaves,
Maleditus Sound,
Franke,
Echospace,
Wings,
Eli Mardock,
Wire,
Blake Baxter,
Carl Craig,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Count Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wasted Youth,
The Skatalites,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.