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 Uruguay and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Joe Smooth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Lyres,
Sun Ra,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Dead C,
Iggy Pop,
Aswad,
Ronnie Foster,
Mission of Burma,
The Count Five,
Aloha Tigers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wally Richardson,
Quadrant,
Gabor Szabo,
The Monochrome Set,
The Seeds,
Letta Mbulu,
D'Angelo,
the Soft Cell,
Magma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joe Finger,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Roger Hodgson,
Mantronix,
The Monks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Connie Case,
The Vogues,
The Residents,
Grey Daturas,
Funkadelic,
Trumans Water,
Nick Fraelich,
These Immortal Souls,
Marine Girls,
Clear Light,
Shoche,
Fugazi,
Outsiders,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultravox,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Starr,
Barry Ungar,
Ohio Players,
Buzzcocks,
Can,
Basic Channel,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mr. Review,
Country Teasers,
Quando Quango,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantytec,
The Gap Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fatback Band,
The Fugs,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.