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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Scan 7 to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Icehouse,
The Black Dice,
R.M.O.,
Erasure,
Camberwell Now,
Bill Near,
Jacques Brel,
Tom Boy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
LL Cool J,
Moby Grape,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ronnie Foster,
PIL,
The Velvet Underground,
Barry Ungar,
The Gap Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dead Boys,
Sister Nancy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oblivians,
Second Layer,
Maurizio,
Newcleus,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mission of Burma,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Dark Day,
Lungfish,
ABC,
Crash Course in Science,
Cameo,
The Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stereo Dub,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Remains,
Roxette,
Thee Headcoats,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Victims,
Matthew Halsall,
Little Man,
Bootsy Collins,
The Blackbyrds,
Rekid,
Motorama,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pylon,
EPMD,
The Beau Brummels,
Quando Quango,
Dual Sessions,
Radiohead,
cv313,
Joensuu 1685,
Procol Harum,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.