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 China and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the 808 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 the Fania All-Stars to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
the Sonics,
David McCallum,
The Leaves,
8 Eyed Spy,
Maleditus Sound,
Crooked Eye,
Unrelated Segments,
Traffic Nightmare,
Monolake,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Black Sheep,
Eddi Front,
Joyce Sims,
Adolescents,
Curtis Mayfield,
Drive Like Jehu,
Angry Samoans,
Moebius,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pagans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Matthew Halsall,
Nils Olav,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Robert Wyatt,
Flash Fearless,
Cecil Taylor,
Wire,
Khruangbin,
Make Up,
Juan Atkins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Idris Muhammad,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Neon Judgement,
Sound Behaviour,
Sandy B,
Arthur Verocai,
Camouflage,
Scion,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Byrd,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Average White Band,
Kurtis Blow,
John Lydon,
New York Dolls,
The Mojo Men,
Lungfish,
Accadde A,
Barry Ungar,
T. Rex,
The Slackers,
The Golliwogs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Warren Ellis,
Prince Buster,
Moby Grape,
Massinfluence,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.