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 Lesotho and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Little Man to the electroclash 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
AZ,
Pantaleimon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Public Image Ltd.,
David Bowie,
Porter Ricks,
Arab on Radar,
Ultravox,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Flipper,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cybotron,
Dawn Penn,
OOIOO,
Magma,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Busters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rotary Connection,
Johnny Osbourne,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Danielle Patucci,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eve St. Jones,
Fatback Band,
Jerry's Kids,
Skriet,
The Velvet Underground,
Judy Mowatt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Don Cherry,
Rosa Yemen,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cramps,
Slick Rick,
ABC,
Jacques Brel,
Glambeats Corp.,
T. Rex,
Joey Negro,
Joy Division,
Marmalade,
Alphaville,
Johnny Clarke,
Scott Walker,
The Mojo Men,
Minny Pops,
Adolescents,
the Slits,
Todd Rundgren,
Cymande,
Pylon,
Sarah Menescal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.