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 Lithuania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Houston.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Boz Scaggs to the jazz 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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Glenn Branca,
Fat Boys,
New Age Steppers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Last Poets,
Davy DMX,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Dolphy,
Simply Red,
Sparks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Agent Orange,
The Gories,
Das Ding,
Tomorrow,
Wally Richardson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Red Krayola,
Darondo,
Max Romeo,
Minny Pops,
Derrick Morgan,
Mr. Review,
DNA,
Crime,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Isaac Hayes,
Hardrive,
Joe Smooth,
The Blues Magoos,
Rhythm & Sound,
Oneida,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Litter,
Eurythmics,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stereo Dub,
The Dave Clark Five,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Faraquet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Toni Rubio,
David Axelrod,
DJ Sneak,
Arcadia,
Siglo XX,
Kas Product,
Bobby Byrd,
Mad Mike,
Sam Rivers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Human League,
Panda Bear,
The Dead C,
Youth Brigade,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.