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 Moldova and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Mission of Burma to the grunge 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
David Bowie,
Barbara Tucker,
Index,
Eric Copeland,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Livin' Joy,
Suburban Knight,
Marc Almond,
Letta Mbulu,
LL Cool J,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kurtis Blow,
Patti Smith,
The Saints,
Excepter,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Searchers,
Idris Muhammad,
Magazine,
Dead Boys,
The Music Machine,
Von Mondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blossom Toes,
Man Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Electric Prunes,
Scan 7,
Niagra,
John Cale,
Visage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
World's Most,
Judy Mowatt,
Monks,
Al Stewart,
Symarip,
Yusef Lateef,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Reuben Wilson,
Todd Terry,
Sandy B,
Slave,
John Foxx,
a-ha,
Severed Heads,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ultravox,
Donny Hathaway,
Rod Modell,
Sonny Sharrock,
Moss Icon,
Chris Corsano,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dark Day,
Duran Duran,
Terry Callier,
FM Einheit,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.