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 Bahamas and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ 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 Man Eating Sloth to the rap 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Soft Machine,
Bluetip,
The Moody Blues,
Judy Mowatt,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Angry Samoans,
Dawn Penn,
Organ,
Accadde A,
Davy DMX,
kango's stein massive,
Blake Baxter,
Hot Snakes,
the Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Infiniti,
Cecil Taylor,
Moss Icon,
The Monochrome Set,
Laurel Aitken,
Gil Scott Heron,
Motorama,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Fugs,
Babytalk,
Drexciya,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thee Headcoats,
Kerri Chandler,
Toni Rubio,
Lucky Dragons,
Lou Reed,
Fela Kuti,
This Heat,
Wolf Eyes,
Andrew Hill,
Black Pus,
Todd Rundgren,
Unwound,
The Fire Engines,
Eric B and Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barclay James Harvest,
Icehouse,
China Crisis,
Prince Buster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flash Fearless,
Pere Ubu,
Wasted Youth,
Aural Exciters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers,
Skriet,
Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Doors,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.