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 Montenegro and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Michael McDonald 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 AZ to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Agitation Free,
10cc,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mars,
F. McDonald,
Albert Ayler,
Pantaleimon,
PIL,
The Selecter,
X-Ray Spex,
Hot Snakes,
Kurtis Blow,
Thee Headcoats,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mark Hollis,
Babytalk,
DJ Style,
Angry Samoans,
Reuben Wilson,
Ponytail,
Archie Shepp,
Soft Machine,
Tommy Roe,
R.M.O.,
B.T. Express,
Index,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grauzone,
Fela Kuti,
Agent Orange,
Pussy Galore,
Minutemen,
Howard Jones,
Japan,
Amon Düül,
Bush Tetras,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echospace,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bill Near,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kevin Saunderson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Tremeloes,
Bobby Womack,
Bang On A Can,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Durutti Column,
T. Rex,
The Evens,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lyres,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Danielle Patucci,
Marvin Gaye,
Josef K,
Arab on Radar,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Sound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.