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 Uruguay and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manchester.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pere Ubu to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Quando Quango,
Davy DMX,
10cc,
Wings,
Godley & Creme,
Underground Resistance,
Easy Going,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lebanon Hanover,
Magma,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Connie Case,
The Divine Comedy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Severed Heads,
X-Ray Spex,
Funkadelic,
Oblivians,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronnie Foster,
The Offenders,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dead Boys,
Lungfish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang Gang Dance,
Andrew Hill,
Von Mondo,
JFA,
Zapp,
Erasure,
Derrick May,
Robert Wyatt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kerri Chandler,
The Evens,
E-Dancer,
The Pop Group,
Nirvana,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Kinks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Minor Threat,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Graham Central Station,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lightning Bolt,
The Invisible,
Dawn Penn,
Kas Product,
H. Thieme,
Grauzone,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wolf Eyes,
Roger Hodgson,
Amon Düül,
Vainqueur,
La Düsseldorf,
Electric Prunes,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.