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 Iran and from Beijing.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Doobie Brothers to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Kayak,
Barrington Levy,
Black Moon,
The Grass Roots,
The Cramps,
Harry Pussy,
Ituana,
Interpol,
Country Teasers,
Shuggie Otis,
Nas,
Cheater Slicks,
Wire,
Bluetip,
Lou Christie,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Althea and Donna,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Vogues,
The Star Department,
Camouflage,
Minutemen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vladislav Delay,
Dave Gahan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mark Hollis,
Urselle,
Aural Exciters,
the Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sonic Youth,
Neu!,
The Remains,
MDC,
Basic Channel,
a-ha,
Popol Vuh,
Tropical Tobacco,
Slick Rick,
The Divine Comedy,
Peter & Gordon,
The American Breed,
Schoolly D,
Mission of Burma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Au Pairs,
Pulsallama,
Scion,
Kenny Larkin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Slave,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Green,
Susan Cadogan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sandy B,
X-101,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.