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 Nigeria and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the grime 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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Althea and Donna,
Mantronix,
Pere Ubu,
Unwound,
Girls At Our Best!,
10cc,
kango's stein massive,
cv313,
Qualms,
Sex Pistols,
DNA,
The Buckinghams,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Youth Brigade,
Black Sheep,
Cal Tjader,
JFA,
Aural Exciters,
Simply Red,
Erasure,
Yusef Lateef,
Babytalk,
Joyce Sims,
The Searchers,
The Martian,
Siglo XX,
The Detroit Cobras,
X-Ray Spex,
Los Fastidios,
the Soft Cell,
Rites of Spring,
Suburban Knight,
Theoretical Girls,
Camouflage,
Trumans Water,
The Blues Magoos,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang of Four,
Warren Ellis,
Spandau Ballet,
Sandy B,
Angry Samoans,
Soft Cell,
Severed Heads,
Marshall Jefferson,
Isaac Hayes,
Massinfluence,
Jeff Lynne,
David McCallum,
Wings,
The Leaves,
T. Rex,
Graham Central Station,
Symarip,
China Crisis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Brand Nubian,
Jacob Miller,
the Germs,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.