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 Libya and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 Toni Rubio to the rock 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Sherman,
The Mojo Men,
Pussy Galore,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Alton Ellis,
Sight & Sound,
Amazonics,
Anthony Braxton,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Red Krayola,
Ronnie Foster,
Aloha Tigers,
Henry Cow,
Dark Day,
Glambeats Corp.,
Colin Newman,
The Selecter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
Goldenarms,
Sister Nancy,
Panda Bear,
Minutemen,
Barry Ungar,
Ultra Naté,
Bootsy Collins,
Smog,
Soulsonic Force,
FM Einheit,
John Foxx,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fela Kuti,
Roger Hodgson,
Toni Rubio,
Mad Mike,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Angels of Light,
Swans,
The Names,
Brothers Johnson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
The J.B.'s,
ABC,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Television,
the Normal,
Motorama,
the Slits,
Hardrive,
Bad Manners,
Swell Maps,
The Young Rascals,
The Saints,
JFA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Sonics,
Symarip,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.