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 Spain and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Crooked Eye to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The J.B.'s,
Sparks,
Livin' Joy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sam Rivers,
Brand Nubian,
Visage,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
In Retrospect,
Cymande,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Grauzone,
The Real Kids,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pierre Henry,
DJ Sneak,
The Mummies,
Animal Collective,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dark Day,
The Standells,
Moss Icon,
Country Teasers,
Pussy Galore,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Junior Murvin,
Reagan Youth,
The Gap Band,
The Blues Magoos,
Scott Walker,
Oneida,
Scratch Acid,
Piero Umiliani,
Alice Coltrane,
Saccharine Trust,
Charles Mingus,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Youth Brigade,
T. Rex,
Sugar Minott,
Mark Hollis,
Rotary Connection,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tommy Roe,
The Misunderstood,
Connie Case,
Dual Sessions,
Rod Modell,
Kerri Chandler,
Cameo,
Bad Manners,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fela Kuti,
Avey Tare,
Flipper,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.