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 Bangladesh and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marcia Griffiths to the funk 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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sex Pistols,
Suburban Knight,
Nils Olav,
Dawn Penn,
These Immortal Souls,
Altered Images,
Gang of Four,
Arthur Verocai,
Supertramp,
Adolescents,
The Knickerbockers,
Quando Quango,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lightning Bolt,
KRS-One,
DJ Sneak,
Gregory Isaacs,
10cc,
Hoover,
The Monks,
DNA,
The Blues Magoos,
Qualms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Country Teasers,
Blake Baxter,
Junior Murvin,
The Count Five,
Suicide,
Lee Hazlewood,
F. McDonald,
The Star Department,
Outsiders,
Symarip,
Byron Stingily,
Scan 7,
Eurythmics,
Camouflage,
Blancmange,
John Coltrane,
Steve Hackett,
Rekid,
Warsaw,
Terrestrial Tones,
B.T. Express,
Masters at Work,
The Techniques,
Al Stewart,
Pere Ubu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
L. Decosne,
Barrington Levy,
MDC,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Association,
The Golliwogs,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.