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 Colombia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Minny Pops,
The Count Five,
EPMD,
Mantronix,
Eve St. Jones,
The Offenders,
The Move,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Germs,
Wasted Youth,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rapeman,
Alice Coltrane,
Altered Images,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Coltrane,
Index,
Robert Görl,
Tres Demented,
Nik Kershaw,
Soul II Soul,
Pantytec,
D'Angelo,
Yellowson,
Babytalk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Essential Logic,
Qualms,
Sister Nancy,
The Mummies,
Con Funk Shun,
The Monks,
Sound Behaviour,
Ossler,
Heaven 17,
K-Klass,
Eric Dolphy,
Masters at Work,
Motorama,
The Music Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
Fugazi,
DJ Sneak,
Ronan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Womack,
Fat Boys,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Rites of Spring,
Piero Umiliani,
Guru Guru,
Boredoms,
Scientists,
The Smoke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.