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 Solomon Islands and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Slits to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Lou Christie,
Joe Smooth,
Lalann,
T.S.O.L.,
Faust,
Porter Ricks,
In Retrospect,
Simply Red,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Funky Four + One,
Vainqueur,
Eric Copeland,
Sixth Finger,
Newcleus,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joensuu 1685,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Moby Grape,
Swans,
The Monks,
Sound Behaviour,
The Young Rascals,
Minutemen,
The American Breed,
Icehouse,
Cecil Taylor,
Dual Sessions,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Grass Roots,
Tropical Tobacco,
Shoche,
the Slits,
Crime,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grandmaster Flash,
T. Rex,
Michelle Simonal,
Rufus Thomas,
Scrapy,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fortunes,
The Barracudas,
Rotary Connection,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mr. Review,
The Invisible,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Country Teasers,
Spandau Ballet,
The Litter,
Cal Tjader,
Alice Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw,
Warren Ellis,
Motorama,
Minnie Riperton,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wings,
Arab on Radar,
Tom Boy,
F. McDonald,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.