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 Estonia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Motorama to the funk 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Spandau Ballet,
Nils Olav,
Absolute Body Control,
Silicon Teens,
New York Dolls,
Brick,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
UT,
Funkadelic,
Hasil Adkins,
Leonard Cohen,
Buzzcocks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pole,
Vladislav Delay,
Matthew Bourne,
Howard Jones,
The Offenders,
Brothers Johnson,
Maurizio,
Jimmy McGriff,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cecil Taylor,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blake Baxter,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hot Snakes,
Interpol,
Joe Smooth,
Easy Going,
Outsiders,
Amon Düül II,
Lungfish,
Ossler,
Warren Ellis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Livin' Joy,
The Divine Comedy,
Rod Modell,
Make Up,
La Düsseldorf,
The Misunderstood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Selecter,
Minny Pops,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rapeman,
Skaos,
The Move,
The Flesh Eaters,
DJ Style,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Mummies,
Bauhaus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Avey Tare,
Michelle Simonal,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.