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 Turkmenistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 B.T. Express to the funk 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Mars,
The Neon Judgement,
Yusef Lateef,
Easy Going,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Make Up,
the Slits,
Desert Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Erykah Badu,
Cymande,
Rakim,
Joy Division,
The Fuzztones,
The Fire Engines,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Spoonie Gee,
Minnie Riperton,
John Cale,
the Association,
Aloha Tigers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Suburban Knight,
The Divine Comedy,
Radio Birdman,
Gregory Isaacs,
Zero Boys,
Symarip,
Slick Rick,
Davy DMX,
Graham Central Station,
Camouflage,
Qualms,
The Doors,
Hashim,
Danielle Patucci,
The Modern Lovers,
Negative Approach,
Gang Green,
Crime,
Hoover,
Mr. Review,
Matthew Bourne,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Toasters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sight & Sound,
the Soft Cell,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Invisible,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Andrew Hill,
The Smiths,
Kenny Larkin,
Hot Snakes,
Josef K,
Connie Case,
Ornette Coleman,
Y Pants,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.