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 Iraq and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba 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 Cecil Taylor to the crunk 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Spoonie Gee,
Black Bananas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Leaves,
Lyres,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Hood,
Symarip,
Sun City Girls,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blues Magoos,
Cecil Taylor,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Invisible,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
U.S. Maple,
The Velvet Underground,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Guru Guru,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cowsills,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
KRS-One,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Malaria!,
Barbara Tucker,
Mad Mike,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Five Americans,
Andrew Hill,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Flag,
Deepchord,
Donny Hathaway,
Trumans Water,
Jeff Lynne,
China Crisis,
Junior Murvin,
10cc,
Average White Band,
Khruangbin,
Piero Umiliani,
The Trojans,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Slackers,
Grauzone,
The Slits,
Scan 7,
The Walker Brothers,
The Monks,
Nick Fraelich,
Kevin Saunderson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.