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 Nauru and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rites of Spring to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub 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 funk 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Rites of Spring,
Public Image Ltd.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David Bowie,
Man Parrish,
Symarip,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
The Dirtbombs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eli Mardock,
The Monks,
Minutemen,
One Last Wish,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Nas,
Au Pairs,
Ponytail,
John Coltrane,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gories,
Jandek,
The Remains,
DJ Sneak,
Second Layer,
Essential Logic,
Yellowson,
Shuggie Otis,
The Knickerbockers,
Maurizio,
Cecil Taylor,
Brand Nubian,
the Bar-Kays,
Faust,
Skarface,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Litter,
Arthur Verocai,
Aural Exciters,
Negative Approach,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Godley & Creme,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Leonard Cohen,
The Evens,
Bill Near,
Radiohead,
Funkadelic,
Dawn Penn,
Sun Ra,
Unwound,
Bang On A Can,
Severed Heads,
LL Cool J,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Robert Hood,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.