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 Serbia and from New York.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Nico,
Boz Scaggs,
Rites of Spring,
Yazoo,
Henry Cow,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Don Cherry,
MDC,
F. McDonald,
Dark Day,
Stiv Bators,
Susan Cadogan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Womack,
The Techniques,
Cecil Taylor,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Letta Mbulu,
Dave Gahan,
Jerry's Kids,
Cameo,
Pylon,
Suicide,
Morten Harket,
Scrapy,
A Certain Ratio,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fear,
Aloha Tigers,
Blossom Toes,
Mad Mike,
Godley & Creme,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Grey Daturas,
Unwound,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Reuben Wilson,
Rekid,
Maurizio,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Seeds,
Khruangbin,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
Joensuu 1685,
Robert Hood,
The Kinks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Absolute Body Control,
Wasted Youth,
The Real Kids,
Bauhaus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Trojans,
Graham Central Station,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.