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 Morocco and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Robert Palmer 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 Idris Muhammad to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment 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?
Suicide,
The Misunderstood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxy Music,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ponytail,
Crime,
Soft Cell,
Bronski Beat,
The Fugs,
Infiniti,
The Litter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Deadbeat,
L. Decosne,
Althea and Donna,
The Sonics,
Aaron Thompson,
Alton Ellis,
The Gladiators,
Dawn Penn,
Todd Terry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Martian,
Marc Almond,
Parry Music,
Qualms,
Electric Prunes,
Essential Logic,
Kaleidoscope,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bang On A Can,
The Kinks,
The Invisible,
Camberwell Now,
Terry Callier,
Nik Kershaw,
The Slits,
Barry Ungar,
Alice Coltrane,
Little Man,
Nirvana,
Flash Fearless,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ituana,
The Victims,
The Beau Brummels,
This Heat,
Mark Hollis,
Shuggie Otis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Schoolly D,
Radiopuhelimet,
T.S.O.L.,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül,
AZ,
Sun Ra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Stooges,
Aswad,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.