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 Liberia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Gap Band to the rock 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Mantronix,
Harmonia,
Pantaleimon,
Moebius,
Simply Red,
Jeff Mills,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gories,
Alton Ellis,
Black Bananas,
Livin' Joy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Heaven 17,
Masters at Work,
Bronski Beat,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brick,
Skriet,
John Foxx,
Avey Tare,
Mars,
The Durutti Column,
Pantytec,
Trumans Water,
Scratch Acid,
Amazonics,
Boz Scaggs,
Sonic Youth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The New Christs,
Fad Gadget,
Flipper,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Music Machine,
Arab on Radar,
Jerry's Kids,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Underground Resistance,
Lungfish,
Tommy Roe,
Mandrill,
Zero Boys,
Bill Near,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Subhumans,
Derrick Morgan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Shoche,
The Fire Engines,
Graham Central Station,
Godley & Creme,
Electric Prunes,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.