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 San Marino and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Man Parrish to the electroclash 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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Robert Görl,
Sam Rivers,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Gun Club,
The Trojans,
UT,
Boredoms,
The Black Dice,
The Fall,
Alton Ellis,
Public Enemy,
Johnny Clarke,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Chris & Cosey,
Traffic Nightmare,
A Certain Ratio,
Vainqueur,
Ludus,
Circle Jerks,
Reagan Youth,
Dual Sessions,
Althea and Donna,
Lakeside,
Robert Wyatt,
Cal Tjader,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sound Behaviour,
Yaz,
Sex Pistols,
The Smoke,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kerri Chandler,
Lower 48,
Prince Buster,
Reuben Wilson,
Ornette Coleman,
the Human League,
Stiv Bators,
T.S.O.L.,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Swans,
The Offenders,
Arcadia,
Dennis Brown,
Soft Cell,
Echospace,
Soft Machine,
June Days,
The Martian,
Colin Newman,
The Five Americans,
Siglo XX,
Joe Finger,
Malaria!,
Guru Guru,
The Real Kids,
The Velvet Underground,
Goldenarms,
Agitation Free,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.