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 Chad and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Searchers to the disco 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 The Gories. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alice Coltrane,
Skriet,
Barry Ungar,
Nick Fraelich,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cal Tjader,
R.M.O.,
The Gladiators,
Pantytec,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Surgeon,
Quantec,
Bootsy Collins,
Depeche Mode,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Halsall,
Big Daddy Kane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Unrelated Segments,
Negative Approach,
Todd Rundgren,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sarah Menescal,
Alton Ellis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Quando Quango,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Monks,
Faraquet,
Morten Harket,
The Trojans,
Circle Jerks,
Stiv Bators,
Severed Heads,
X-102,
Matthew Bourne,
David Bowie,
Massinfluence,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Alison Limerick,
Sexual Harrassment,
One Last Wish,
the Bar-Kays,
Chris Corsano,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Sheep,
Half Japanese,
John Foxx,
MDC,
The Durutti Column,
The Slackers,
Cymande,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tears for Fears,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.