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 Grenada and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare 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 Cecil Taylor to the funk 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Bootsy Collins,
Anthony Braxton,
Eve St. Jones,
Steve Hackett,
In Retrospect,
The J.B.'s,
K-Klass,
Gang Starr,
Don Cherry,
Charles Mingus,
James White and The Blacks,
Reuben Wilson,
Yusef Lateef,
the Slits,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Johnny Clarke,
Minor Threat,
The Star Department,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Icehouse,
Robert Görl,
Young Marble Giants,
The American Breed,
Dead Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
Hasil Adkins,
Bobby Womack,
The Smoke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Soulsonic Force,
Easy Going,
Urselle,
Glenn Branca,
Mission of Burma,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marvin Gaye,
Excepter,
Jacques Brel,
Althea and Donna,
Unwound,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Trojans,
Marmalade,
Massinfluence,
The Stooges,
The Zeros,
Lalann,
The Slackers,
Robert Hood,
The Happenings,
Procol Harum,
Absolute Body Control,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
H. Thieme,
Interpol,
The Move,
David McCallum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.