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 Saudi Arabia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 Drexciya to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 JFA. All the underground hits.
All Donny Hathaway tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive 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 a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Eric Dolphy,
The Buckinghams,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jacques Brel,
Public Enemy,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Cramps,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stereo Dub,
Sparks,
The Smoke,
Procol Harum,
Toni Rubio,
DNA,
Nick Fraelich,
Susan Cadogan,
Crash Course in Science,
The Young Rascals,
Gastr Del Sol,
Thee Headcoats,
the Human League,
Oblivians,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sonic Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Leaves,
The Index,
Tommy Roe,
Sight & Sound,
Minor Threat,
The Tremeloes,
Fad Gadget,
The Toasters,
The Martian,
Television Personalities,
Wasted Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
James White and The Blacks,
Con Funk Shun,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Alton Ellis,
Sam Rivers,
The Smiths,
Terry Callier,
The Remains,
Porter Ricks,
Half Japanese,
Aaron Thompson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Theoretical Girls,
Joensuu 1685,
Minny Pops,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kurtis Blow,
Outsiders,
Graham Central Station,
Von Mondo,
Amazonics,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.