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 Cameroon and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the grunge 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Organ,
F. McDonald,
Todd Terry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
Lyres,
Minny Pops,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sun City Girls,
The Wake,
Kas Product,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Saints,
Procol Harum,
Rekid,
the Normal,
Supertramp,
The Sonics,
Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gong,
Ice-T,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Happenings,
Rod Modell,
Eric Copeland,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Dead C,
Gang Starr,
Don Cherry,
H. Thieme,
Arcadia,
Mission of Burma,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Swans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jandek,
Derrick Morgan,
Fear,
The Misunderstood,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crispian St. Peters,
U.S. Maple,
Leonard Cohen,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tubeway Army,
Duran Duran,
UT,
Gastr Del Sol,
T. Rex,
Patti Smith,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Germs,
Yellowson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.