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 Sudan and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Star Department,
Wally Richardson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Youth Brigade,
Angry Samoans,
Barry Ungar,
This Heat,
Black Flag,
Black Pus,
Livin' Joy,
Can,
Lyres,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Bananas,
Inner City,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Oblivians,
Procol Harum,
Drexciya,
Johnny Clarke,
Sixth Finger,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Busters,
The Grass Roots,
Delta 5,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lucky Dragons,
The Dead C,
Cecil Taylor,
Marshall Jefferson,
Derrick Morgan,
The Golliwogs,
Bill Near,
Adolescents,
Underground Resistance,
Bobby Womack,
Erasure,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Slits,
Khruangbin,
Mary Jane Girls,
Amon Düül,
Siglo XX,
Scott Walker,
The Last Poets,
The Neon Judgement,
Mars,
Howard Jones,
Soul II Soul,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Moleskins,
Connie Case,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Red Krayola,
Peter and Kerry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rites of Spring,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.