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 Saudi Arabia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Agent Orange to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bill Near,
June of 44,
Rekid,
Pere Ubu,
Delta 5,
John Cale,
Ultra Naté,
Alison Limerick,
Barry Ungar,
Los Fastidios,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Quantec,
Q and Not U,
Soul II Soul,
Quando Quango,
Bush Tetras,
The Blackbyrds,
Nation of Ulysses,
Altered Images,
Wings,
Wasted Youth,
Marmalade,
Pierre Henry,
Cybotron,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
Icehouse,
Moss Icon,
Aswad,
The Searchers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ice-T,
The Star Department,
Terry Callier,
Livin' Joy,
Fat Boys,
Donald Byrd,
Inner City,
Piero Umiliani,
Morten Harket,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Last Poets,
Zapp,
The Zeros,
Leonard Cohen,
Sixth Finger,
Hot Snakes,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Intrusion,
Soft Machine,
Whodini,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Techniques,
Roy Ayers,
Minutemen,
Sarah Menescal,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.