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 Nauru and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet 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 Cecil Taylor to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
The Wake,
The Real Kids,
Joe Finger,
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Wyatt,
Fat Boys,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fuzztones,
Anakelly,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Unwound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heaven 17,
Rakim,
Mad Mike,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Sonics,
Roxy Music,
Nils Olav,
Soulsonic Force,
The Music Machine,
The Five Americans,
David Axelrod,
The Smoke,
The Residents,
Black Bananas,
Sugar Minott,
Monks,
K-Klass,
Television,
Rosa Yemen,
Donald Byrd,
Gabor Szabo,
Leonard Cohen,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pantytec,
Cabaret Voltaire,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Eddi Front,
The United States of America,
Howard Jones,
Tubeway Army,
Alice Coltrane,
Tim Buckley,
Blancmange,
Robert Hood,
Tom Boy,
The Star Department,
Little Man,
Depeche Mode,
Duran Duran,
Unrelated Segments,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Green,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.