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 Malawi and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Tim Buckley to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joe Smooth,
Accadde A,
Soulsonic Force,
Jawbox,
Talk Talk,
DJ Style,
Funkadelic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Erasure,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fortunes,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Normal,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sandy B,
X-Ray Spex,
T. Rex,
The Tremeloes,
David McCallum,
Gang Gang Dance,
Von Mondo,
Television,
Roger Hodgson,
Mandrill,
Minnie Riperton,
Reagan Youth,
Skarface,
Adolescents,
Bush Tetras,
Marmalade,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Doors,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
cv313,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crime,
Simply Red,
Darondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Section 25,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jacques Brel,
Siglo XX,
The Angels of Light,
Model 500,
The Pretty Things,
Lou Reed,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sparks,
Joey Negro,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wasted Youth,
Warren Ellis,
Hashim,
Janne Schatter,
June Days,
Minor Threat,
Scan 7,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.