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 Micronesia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Trojans to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Blossom Toes,
The Toasters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Symarip,
The Buckinghams,
Nas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eve St. Jones,
Bronski Beat,
Cheater Slicks,
Mad Mike,
Funkadelic,
Davy DMX,
Swans,
Hot Snakes,
Warren Ellis,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Womack,
Ossler,
Simply Red,
Camberwell Now,
Bob Dylan,
Scratch Acid,
The Misunderstood,
Michelle Simonal,
Camouflage,
Delta 5,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Normal,
Connie Case,
The Standells,
Donald Byrd,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Nirvana,
Don Cherry,
Chris & Cosey,
Wally Richardson,
X-101,
Judy Mowatt,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Lydon,
Model 500,
Electric Prunes,
Rapeman,
Peter and Kerry,
Sister Nancy,
X-Ray Spex,
Peter & Gordon,
Robert Wyatt,
Heaven 17,
The Victims,
Sixth Finger,
R.M.O.,
This Heat,
Nils Olav,
Con Funk Shun,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.