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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Man Eating Sloth to the punk 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Little Man,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Zeros,
Tom Boy,
Supertramp,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Shadows of Knight,
F. McDonald,
Mary Jane Girls,
Depeche Mode,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Faraquet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Letta Mbulu,
Man Parrish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Althea and Donna,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantaleimon,
Bobby Sherman,
Essential Logic,
Talk Talk,
L. Decosne,
Basic Channel,
Main Source,
the Soft Cell,
Oneida,
Wasted Youth,
The Black Dice,
Yusef Lateef,
Inner City,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
K-Klass,
The Count Five,
Quando Quango,
Y Pants,
Derrick May,
The Wake,
Soulsonic Force,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Siglo XX,
One Last Wish,
Simply Red,
Agent Orange,
H. Thieme,
June of 44,
The Sound,
Funkadelic,
Radio Birdman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tears for Fears,
Pole,
Slave,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slackers,
John Lydon,
Eurythmics,
Pussy Galore,
Max Romeo,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.