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 Mexico and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 J.B.'s to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Kayak,
Jandek,
Wasted Youth,
The Slits,
Black Moon,
Glenn Branca,
Crime,
Sun Ra,
Popol Vuh,
Tears for Fears,
Eve St. Jones,
Hasil Adkins,
DJ Sneak,
Audionom,
Interpol,
Gabor Szabo,
Stereo Dub,
Minor Threat,
The Buckinghams,
Japan,
The Kinks,
The Barracudas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dead Boys,
Hardrive,
Boz Scaggs,
Rhythm & Sound,
10cc,
the Swans,
The Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bootsy Collins,
Hot Snakes,
Gichy Dan,
Ituana,
Infiniti,
The Last Poets,
Deepchord,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Evens,
The Smiths,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bluetip,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alice Coltrane,
Joensuu 1685,
The Blackbyrds,
Ponytail,
Nick Fraelich,
Animal Collective,
Whodini,
Heaven 17,
Mark Hollis,
Parry Music,
Yaz,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.