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 South Sudan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Jimmy McGriff to the rock 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Eve St. Jones,
Joey Negro,
Con Funk Shun,
H. Thieme,
Nils Olav,
Outsiders,
Eric Copeland,
Moby Grape,
Ponytail,
Sandy B,
The Black Dice,
Cameo,
E-Dancer,
LL Cool J,
The Smiths,
Wings,
Smog,
Amazonics,
Dave Gahan,
Anakelly,
Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
Desert Stars,
Scientists,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rufus Thomas,
Little Man,
Bobby Byrd,
Andrew Hill,
Simply Red,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Stetsasonic,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eli Mardock,
Public Enemy,
Marmalade,
Spandau Ballet,
Bob Dylan,
New York Dolls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pantaleimon,
Laurel Aitken,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Fortunes,
Rites of Spring,
Reuben Wilson,
F. McDonald,
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Donny Hathaway,
The Raincoats,
Fad Gadget,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.