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 Cape Verde and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Hot Snakes,
Hashim,
Camouflage,
Severed Heads,
John Cale,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mr. Review,
The Beau Brummels,
Black Flag,
Mars,
Tropical Tobacco,
T. Rex,
Vladislav Delay,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Moon,
Depeche Mode,
Babytalk,
X-101,
B.T. Express,
48th St. Collective,
Model 500,
Hardrive,
Neu!,
Pere Ubu,
Soul II Soul,
Deadbeat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Electric Prunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Raincoats,
Prince Buster,
In Retrospect,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mandrill,
Pharoah Sanders,
Yazoo,
Magma,
Half Japanese,
Eric Copeland,
LL Cool J,
Icehouse,
Goldenarms,
Sixth Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
Crooked Eye,
The Barracudas,
Aural Exciters,
The Divine Comedy,
Boz Scaggs,
Kerri Chandler,
Popol Vuh,
Alton Ellis,
Hoover,
The Durutti Column,
Pylon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Human League,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Trojans,
Idris Muhammad,
Echospace,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.