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 Greece and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet 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 Sam Rivers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Average White Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
H. Thieme,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Red Krayola,
Sandy B,
Joey Negro,
The Golliwogs,
Magazine,
Lalann,
Moby Grape,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Von Mondo,
The Mojo Men,
Ten City,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Brand Nubian,
Alton Ellis,
Brass Construction,
Nick Fraelich,
James White and The Blacks,
Vladislav Delay,
Fatback Band,
The Smoke,
Rakim,
Derrick May,
Sex Pistols,
Darondo,
Tom Boy,
Grauzone,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Byrd,
Crooked Eye,
Barbara Tucker,
Schoolly D,
Clear Light,
Subhumans,
Erasure,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
JFA,
Boredoms,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Techniques,
Popol Vuh,
Hashim,
Outsiders,
Absolute Body Control,
Dawn Penn,
June Days,
The Index,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fortunes,
Judy Mowatt,
The Cure,
Stetsasonic,
Amazonics,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.