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 Jamaica and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television 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 Cecil Taylor to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
The Flesh Eaters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
F. McDonald,
The Dave Clark Five,
Panda Bear,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Flipper,
Scrapy,
The Star Department,
Barrington Levy,
Ultra Naté,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gun Club,
The Evens,
Das Ding,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Angry Samoans,
Saccharine Trust,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wire,
Barry Ungar,
Scientists,
Buzzcocks,
Wings,
Nico,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lalo Schifrin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Amazonics,
Mr. Review,
The Pop Group,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Metal Thangz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Symarip,
Sun Ra,
Delta 5,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Cluster,
The Move,
Yellowson,
The Fuzztones,
Cameo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thompson Twins,
ABBA,
Lakeside,
Duran Duran,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Byrd,
The Standells,
Chrome,
Massinfluence,
James White and The Blacks,
David Bowie,
Gong,
Ten City,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.