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 Papua New Guinea and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Accra.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 John Coltrane to the punk 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 Oneida. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Isaac Hayes,
Sandy B,
The Leaves,
Scion,
Black Bananas,
F. McDonald,
Prince Buster,
Rosa Yemen,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Severed Heads,
The Zeros,
Thompson Twins,
Vladislav Delay,
Khruangbin,
Wally Richardson,
Deakin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Con Funk Shun,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Modern Lovers,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Velvet Underground,
Pere Ubu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mo-Dettes,
The New Christs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gladiators,
The Smiths,
The Monks,
Cecil Taylor,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marcia Griffiths,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mandrill,
Ornette Coleman,
Alice Coltrane,
Animal Collective,
Zero Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacques Brel,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Human League,
The Slackers,
Fat Boys,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronnie Foster,
David Bowie,
Bill Wells,
X-Ray Spex,
Sex Pistols,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Style,
Gang Green,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
One Last Wish,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.