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 Paraguay and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Halifax.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Divine Comedy to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Danielle Patucci,
Rakim,
Gang Green,
The Gladiators,
Robert Wyatt,
Mission of Burma,
Nik Kershaw,
Chrome,
Trumans Water,
The Index,
Oblivians,
The United States of America,
Curtis Mayfield,
Babytalk,
the Swans,
Pere Ubu,
Harmonia,
Graham Central Station,
Ponytail,
New York Dolls,
Deakin,
Toni Rubio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Slits,
Laurel Aitken,
Leonard Cohen,
Maleditus Sound,
Minny Pops,
Cecil Taylor,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Mo-Dettes,
Dawn Penn,
Fat Boys,
U.S. Maple,
UT,
The Smiths,
Scott Walker,
John Cale,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Morten Harket,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Mummies,
Procol Harum,
Amon Düül,
FM Einheit,
Al Stewart,
Desert Stars,
Blossom Toes,
48th St. Collective,
Echospace,
the Soft Cell,
Bauhaus,
L. Decosne,
Joe Finger,
Terry Callier,
Black Pus,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.