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 Mongolia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Charles Mingus to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
The Techniques,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Theoretical Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marine Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
UT,
Brothers Johnson,
Pylon,
Pagans,
Roxy Music,
Donald Byrd,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Magma,
AZ,
Pussy Galore,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Motions,
The Cramps,
Blancmange,
Royal Trux,
Drexciya,
Neil Young,
Oneida,
The Litter,
Public Enemy,
The Real Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skriet,
Sixth Finger,
Connie Case,
The Remains,
Sister Nancy,
Procol Harum,
John Holt,
The Walker Brothers,
Agent Orange,
Faraquet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Cure,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
This Heat,
The Neon Judgement,
Tom Boy,
Zapp,
Basic Channel,
Crispy Ambulance,
Moebius,
Fear,
Boz Scaggs,
Quadrant,
Infiniti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.