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 Nicaragua and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blackbyrds to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Public Enemy,
Prince Buster,
Crash Course in Science,
The Angels of Light,
The Tremeloes,
Pere Ubu,
The Slackers,
Toni Rubio,
Panda Bear,
Animal Collective,
The Count Five,
H. Thieme,
Supertramp,
Dawn Penn,
Blancmange,
Laurel Aitken,
Little Man,
Letta Mbulu,
Sam Rivers,
Angry Samoans,
The Busters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Pop Group,
Lou Christie,
Skriet,
David Axelrod,
Tommy Roe,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lindisfarne,
Popol Vuh,
Judy Mowatt,
Agitation Free,
Kerri Chandler,
Lungfish,
Cameo,
Brass Construction,
Mark Hollis,
The Smoke,
Hot Snakes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Soft Machine,
Don Cherry,
The Knickerbockers,
Archie Shepp,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Flag,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Henry Cow,
Vainqueur,
Monks,
The Motions,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Hardrive,
Leonard Cohen,
Carl Craig,
Absolute Body Control,
Sonny Sharrock,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.