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 Slovakia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 oboe 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 Sonny Sharrock 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Johnny Osbourne,
Echospace,
Darondo,
Colin Newman,
Arab on Radar,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deakin,
Aloha Tigers,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
The Standells,
The Seeds,
a-ha,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Monks,
Nick Fraelich,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Flag,
Scan 7,
The Associates,
Crooked Eye,
Zero Boys,
New York Dolls,
Juan Atkins,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Sound,
Drexciya,
The Sonics,
Barry Ungar,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Minny Pops,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radio Birdman,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Barbara Tucker,
The Buckinghams,
Procol Harum,
Terry Callier,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tropical Tobacco,
Byron Stingily,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Tremeloes,
Young Marble Giants,
The Raincoats,
DJ Style,
The American Breed,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smoke,
DJ Sneak,
Mo-Dettes,
T. Rex,
The Beau Brummels,
The Busters,
The Offenders,
Harry Pussy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ponytail,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-101,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stiv Bators,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.