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 Costa Rica and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 Glambeats Corp. to the rock 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Jesus and Mary Chain record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Circle Jerks,
DNA,
Andrew Hill,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mission of Burma,
Max Romeo,
Von Mondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bootsy Collins,
Absolute Body Control,
Warren Ellis,
Mark Hollis,
James White and The Blacks,
Pussy Galore,
Banda Bassotti,
Boredoms,
Subhumans,
Sun City Girls,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Slits,
Glambeats Corp.,
Echospace,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Sonics,
Flipper,
The Gap Band,
Lakeside,
The Dave Clark Five,
Malaria!,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Remains,
Sam Rivers,
Reagan Youth,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Suicide,
The Knickerbockers,
Scrapy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
EPMD,
June of 44,
Zapp,
Patti Smith,
Tom Boy,
E-Dancer,
The Barracudas,
The Wake,
Cymande,
H. Thieme,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Sherman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Stereo Dub,
U.S. Maple,
The Monks,
Dennis Brown,
Mad Mike,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.