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 Cambodia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Salvador and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the rock 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Yusef Lateef,
Fat Boys,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dark Day,
Delta 5,
The Divine Comedy,
The Music Machine,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Birthday Party,
Marine Girls,
Magazine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Organ,
Sparks,
The Sonics,
Fear,
Jeru the Damaja,
OOIOO,
Glenn Branca,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kurtis Blow,
H. Thieme,
Ultravox,
The Cure,
The Dead C,
Deepchord,
Cybotron,
The Knickerbockers,
10cc,
DJ Style,
Make Up,
Circle Jerks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Wings,
The Index,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Talk Talk,
Bootsy Collins,
Audionom,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rosa Yemen,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Sonics,
Quando Quango,
Clear Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Soft Machine,
Bobby Womack,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Visage,
Subhumans,
The Fuzztones,
Tubeway Army,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.