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 Sweden and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Heaven 17 to the grunge 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Quando Quango,
Judy Mowatt,
John Cale,
X-Ray Spex,
Mo-Dettes,
Joe Smooth,
Ultra Naté,
Accadde A,
New Order,
Radio Birdman,
Cameo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Unrelated Segments,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zero Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Gerry Rafferty,
Boz Scaggs,
The Durutti Column,
Babytalk,
The Five Americans,
Whodini,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Last Poets,
Joy Division,
the Swans,
Glenn Branca,
Carl Craig,
Young Marble Giants,
Althea and Donna,
The Dead C,
Kerri Chandler,
Swell Maps,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Almond,
Boogie Down Productions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Gories,
Cluster,
David Bowie,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nas,
Quantec,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Knickerbockers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Deepchord,
the Germs,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker,
The American Breed,
The Fortunes,
Morten Harket,
The United States of America,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gong,
The Real Kids,
The Music Machine,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.