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 Mozambique and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lou Christie to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Jeru the Damaja,
Infiniti,
Los Fastidios,
The Birthday Party,
The Residents,
The Sound,
Clear Light,
Nick Fraelich,
Pole,
The Offenders,
Darondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Young Marble Giants,
Brick,
Popol Vuh,
Eve St. Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
The Saints,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eric Copeland,
the Bar-Kays,
Flash Fearless,
The Neon Judgement,
The Fugs,
Stereo Dub,
Heaven 17,
Hashim,
Derrick Morgan,
Thompson Twins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Five Americans,
Tom Boy,
The Knickerbockers,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Count Five,
Lee Hazlewood,
Monolake,
DNA,
Faust,
Archie Shepp,
Gong,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Metal Thangz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Khruangbin,
Vainqueur,
Alton Ellis,
Goldenarms,
F. McDonald,
Joe Finger,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sugar Minott,
Graham Central Station,
Theoretical Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jacob Miller,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.