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 Maldives and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 The Real Kids to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Amon Düül II. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
The Knickerbockers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
Sixth Finger,
Scion,
Radiopuhelimet,
This Heat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Skatalites,
Jawbox,
Vainqueur,
Gabor Szabo,
The Count Five,
Maleditus Sound,
Bob Dylan,
Q65,
A Certain Ratio,
The Smoke,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eve St. Jones,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jacob Miller,
Todd Terry,
The Motions,
U.S. Maple,
Jandek,
Barrington Levy,
The Monochrome Set,
Quando Quango,
Shoche,
Zapp,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harmonia,
Tres Demented,
The Golliwogs,
Amazonics,
John Cale,
Lalann,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Echospace,
The Moleskins,
The Moody Blues,
KRS-One,
Unrelated Segments,
Drexciya,
Eden Ahbez,
Gang of Four,
Radio Birdman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Maurizio,
Sam Rivers,
Cal Tjader,
DJ Sneak,
Thee Headcoats,
Bill Near,
The Electric Prunes,
Hasil Adkins,
Slick Rick,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.