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 Swaziland and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 United States of America to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
New York Dolls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Anthony Braxton,
The Remains,
Lucky Dragons,
Charles Mingus,
The Monks,
Drexciya,
The Doobie Brothers,
Althea and Donna,
Make Up,
Robert Hood,
Idris Muhammad,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pierre Henry,
Donald Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joyce Sims,
Jandek,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Mojo Men,
Faraquet,
Mad Mike,
The Dead C,
The Dirtbombs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Gories,
Sight & Sound,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rod Modell,
Soulsonic Force,
K-Klass,
The Techniques,
Matthew Bourne,
Scott Walker,
Moebius,
Quantec,
Deadbeat,
The Raincoats,
Arcadia,
Parry Music,
Vainqueur,
Leonard Cohen,
Bush Tetras,
The Doors,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter and Kerry,
Fear,
F. McDonald,
Neil Young,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultravox,
The Seeds,
Slick Rick,
Babytalk,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Minutemen,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.