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 Italy and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro 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 Archie Shepp to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every LL Cool J 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wally Richardson,
AZ,
The United States of America,
Kenny Larkin,
Harry Pussy,
Tears for Fears,
The Motions,
Trumans Water,
Derrick Morgan,
The Star Department,
Lindisfarne,
Oblivians,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sam Rivers,
Yazoo,
Sun City Girls,
The Sound,
Clear Light,
Drive Like Jehu,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Mills,
Ultra Naté,
Sixth Finger,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Talk Talk,
The Buckinghams,
Bootsy Collins,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Misunderstood,
The Residents,
The Mummies,
The Barracudas,
Delon & Dalcan,
JFA,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Black Bananas,
Lucky Dragons,
Pagans,
Eden Ahbez,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Motorama,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Modern Lovers,
Ohio Players,
Main Source,
Stiv Bators,
Dark Day,
Qualms,
Piero Umiliani,
The Seeds,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dave Gahan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Letta Mbulu,
The Music Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.