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 Belgium and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ 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 Grey Daturas to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Boz Scaggs,
Bang On A Can,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Magma,
Gong,
Jeff Mills,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Red Krayola,
Kayak,
Pussy Galore,
Pharoah Sanders,
Delta 5,
Trumans Water,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ohio Players,
DJ Sneak,
Davy DMX,
In Retrospect,
Popol Vuh,
Nico,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Chris Corsano,
Glambeats Corp.,
K-Klass,
Slave,
the Germs,
JFA,
Electric Prunes,
Zapp,
Man Parrish,
Black Moon,
Junior Murvin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barbara Tucker,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sugar Minott,
Underground Resistance,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Whodini,
Organ,
Mr. Review,
Al Stewart,
Parry Music,
Camberwell Now,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dark Day,
Eden Ahbez,
Qualms,
Porter Ricks,
The Cramps,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Throbbing Gristle,
This Heat,
Funky Four + One,
Vainqueur,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.