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 Uganda and from Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 It's A Beautiful Day to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mojo Men,
The Invisible,
Swell Maps,
Harry Pussy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Erasure,
Mandrill,
Josef K,
X-101,
Angry Samoans,
MC5,
The Five Americans,
Echospace,
Roy Ayers,
Franke,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mr. Review,
Robert Wyatt,
B.T. Express,
Section 25,
Infiniti,
Pulsallama,
Bizarre Inc.,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ohio Players,
Joensuu 1685,
Cluster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Shadows of Knight,
Morten Harket,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Amon Düül II,
Dual Sessions,
Yazoo,
The Litter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Smooth,
Monks,
Loose Ends,
Lee Hazlewood,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June Days,
the Bar-Kays,
Scan 7,
La Düsseldorf,
Youth Brigade,
Arab on Radar,
Fatback Band,
Funky Four + One,
the Normal,
Dennis Brown,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Slits,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Motorama,
Ralphi Rosario,
The United States of America,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.