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 Qatar and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 T.S.O.L. to the jazz 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 The Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brass Construction,
Lou Reed,
Sam Rivers,
Spandau Ballet,
Tim Buckley,
The Electric Prunes,
Niagra,
Tears for Fears,
The Index,
Bush Tetras,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rapeman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Amon Düül,
The Red Krayola,
The Remains,
Morten Harket,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bill Wells,
Althea and Donna,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Silicon Teens,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mad Mike,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang of Four,
The Martian,
Nico,
Dark Day,
T. Rex,
Charles Mingus,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Easy Going,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Flipper,
Josef K,
Wolf Eyes,
China Crisis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Doors,
Pantaleimon,
Roxette,
Lou Christie,
Max Romeo,
Roy Ayers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Slits,
Rites of Spring,
U.S. Maple,
Qualms,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Tremeloes,
The Buckinghams,
James White and The Blacks,
Sun City Girls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Sherman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Howard Jones,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.