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 Peru and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin 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 clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Danielle Patucci,
Traffic Nightmare,
Maleditus Sound,
Robert Görl,
OOIOO,
These Immortal Souls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fifty Foot Hose,
La Düsseldorf,
Das Ding,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Standells,
Bobby Womack,
Fela Kuti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nico,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Archie Shepp,
The Detroit Cobras,
Colin Newman,
Prince Buster,
Alton Ellis,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yellowson,
Black Sheep,
Pulsallama,
Spoonie Gee,
New York Dolls,
Thee Headcoats,
The Vogues,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Evens,
Eden Ahbez,
Radio Birdman,
Marvin Gaye,
The Fire Engines,
The Flesh Eaters,
Faust,
The American Breed,
Scratch Acid,
Fatback Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Youth Brigade,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sexual Harrassment,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sister Nancy,
The Grass Roots,
Agitation Free,
Robert Wyatt,
The Offenders,
The Knickerbockers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The J.B.'s,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kevin Saunderson,
Chris Corsano,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
L. Decosne,
Rakim,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.