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 Pakistan and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Move to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Saints,
Soft Machine,
Public Enemy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Moby Grape,
Charles Mingus,
AZ,
The Seeds,
The Last Poets,
MDC,
The Fire Engines,
Q65,
Erasure,
The Searchers,
The Victims,
Ronnie Foster,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Todd Terry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Can,
Cymande,
Section 25,
The Blackbyrds,
Lyres,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
Index,
Agent Orange,
Joyce Sims,
Quadrant,
Bobby Womack,
Brand Nubian,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
La Düsseldorf,
Fear,
The Barracudas,
Oneida,
Piero Umiliani,
Moebius,
8 Eyed Spy,
L. Decosne,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Grass Roots,
the Sonics,
Brick,
Stereo Dub,
The Gladiators,
Lou Reed,
Lou Christie,
Man Eating Sloth,
Monolake,
Bobby Byrd,
Sugar Minott,
Mandrill,
The Zeros,
the Association,
The Real Kids,
James White and The Blacks,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.