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 India and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Donald Fagen 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 Moleskins to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette 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?
Kurtis Blow,
Barbara Tucker,
Roy Ayers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Youth Brigade,
KRS-One,
Minutemen,
The Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Make Up,
Man Parrish,
Section 25,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sixth Finger,
Terry Callier,
Severed Heads,
Groovy Waters,
Bronski Beat,
Bootsy Collins,
Maurizio,
Blancmange,
Easy Going,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fire Engines,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Bourne,
The Golliwogs,
Whodini,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare,
Radiohead,
Brothers Johnson,
Minnie Riperton,
Faraquet,
The Monks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Steve Hackett,
Yaz,
Simply Red,
Fela Kuti,
The Techniques,
Surgeon,
Negative Approach,
Slick Rick,
John Foxx,
Brick,
Con Funk Shun,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bill Wells,
Circle Jerks,
Todd Terry,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cowsills,
The Fugs,
Banda Bassotti,
Popol Vuh,
Public Image Ltd.,
Babytalk,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.