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 Israel and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 The Moody Blues to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Organ,
Eddi Front,
DNA,
The Flesh Eaters,
Interpol,
Barbara Tucker,
Marmalade,
Aural Exciters,
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
Gang Green,
Scott Walker,
Mr. Review,
the Human League,
Patti Smith,
Soft Cell,
The Stooges,
Sarah Menescal,
Scan 7,
Malaria!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eric Dolphy,
Peter & Gordon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dirtbombs,
Soulsonic Force,
Gang Starr,
Grauzone,
Bang On A Can,
Black Pus,
Brothers Johnson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fugs,
Echospace,
Lightning Bolt,
The Tremeloes,
Kas Product,
Yazoo,
Adolescents,
Blossom Toes,
The Kinks,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Index,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mark Hollis,
Dead Boys,
The Golliwogs,
Brick,
Jacques Brel,
the Slits,
David Bowie,
The Modern Lovers,
Deepchord,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.