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 Romania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Average White Band to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Blake Baxter,
Vainqueur,
Crispian St. Peters,
Warsaw,
Bauhaus,
X-Ray Spex,
The Index,
Alison Limerick,
John Cale,
Ronnie Foster,
Cybotron,
Aloha Tigers,
The Zeros,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dark Day,
Gong,
Blossom Toes,
Neu!,
Harmonia,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wasted Youth,
Eli Mardock,
The Blackbyrds,
The Gun Club,
the Soft Cell,
Black Bananas,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Seeds,
Junior Murvin,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Neil Young,
Jandek,
Swell Maps,
This Heat,
Jacob Miller,
Brothers Johnson,
EPMD,
10cc,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Skatalites,
Mission of Burma,
Unrelated Segments,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Q and Not U,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Janne Schatter,
Frankie Knuckles,
Country Teasers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ken Boothe,
Au Pairs,
Ludus,
the Fania All-Stars,
Piero Umiliani,
Terry Callier,
The Associates,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Maurizio,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pussy Galore,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.