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 Papua New Guinea and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Last Poets to the crunk 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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput 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 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Don Cherry,
the Bar-Kays,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The New Christs,
B.T. Express,
Monks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Theoretical Girls,
Maleditus Sound,
Idris Muhammad,
Alton Ellis,
Arab on Radar,
Scrapy,
Mark Hollis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Camouflage,
Pagans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Derrick Morgan,
Anthony Braxton,
Urselle,
Thompson Twins,
X-102,
Sixth Finger,
Pere Ubu,
Steve Hackett,
ABBA,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Warsaw,
Tubeway Army,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tim Buckley,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
One Last Wish,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eric Dolphy,
Wings,
Cecil Taylor,
Country Joe & The Fish,
John Holt,
Babytalk,
Brass Construction,
The Electric Prunes,
Fluxion,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terry Callier,
The Happenings,
Charles Mingus,
The Index,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Gladiators,
Cymande,
AZ,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Leonard Cohen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.