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 Guyana and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Althea and Donna to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kenny Larkin,
Liliput,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Spandau Ballet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Television Personalities,
E-Dancer,
the Germs,
Clear Light,
Eve St. Jones,
Mars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Technova,
In Retrospect,
Idris Muhammad,
The Star Department,
ABBA,
Eurythmics,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ice-T,
Soft Cell,
Kas Product,
Average White Band,
Nas,
The Gories,
Au Pairs,
the Normal,
John Foxx,
Pantaleimon,
H. Thieme,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Neon Judgement,
B.T. Express,
Fort Wilson Riot,
New Age Steppers,
Lindisfarne,
Aswad,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Section 25,
CMW,
The Fugs,
Slave,
Mr. Review,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Smiths,
the Association,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Tremeloes,
Fear,
The Move,
Marshall Jefferson,
Loose Ends,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fluxion,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Motions,
Soul II Soul,
Leonard Cohen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Moleskins,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.