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 Burkina and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Maurizio,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-102,
Flash Fearless,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lyres,
Amazonics,
Soul II Soul,
The Pop Group,
Yaz,
Slave,
R.M.O.,
The Grass Roots,
Suicide,
Andrew Hill,
Wings,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sugar Minott,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Durutti Column,
The Monochrome Set,
The Flesh Eaters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Chrome,
Shoche,
Carl Craig,
Roger Hodgson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Lower 48,
MC5,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Mojo Men,
The Trojans,
The Invisible,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sight & Sound,
the Slits,
Ludus,
Suburban Knight,
Sixth Finger,
Joe Smooth,
Masters at Work,
The Dead C,
The United States of America,
Saccharine Trust,
Babytalk,
Nirvana,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Neil Young,
Barrington Levy,
Half Japanese,
John Holt,
The Skatalites,
Eve St. Jones,
the Swans,
The Wake,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.