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 United Kingdom and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Crash Course in Science,
Anthony Braxton,
Youth Brigade,
Laurel Aitken,
Bill Wells,
Supertramp,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Steve Hackett,
DJ Sneak,
Max Romeo,
Au Pairs,
Heaven 17,
Barry Ungar,
Marshall Jefferson,
Whodini,
Ornette Coleman,
China Crisis,
Black Moon,
Harmonia,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lou Reed,
Inner City,
Intrusion,
The Gun Club,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kerri Chandler,
Albert Ayler,
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
Roy Ayers,
Technova,
The Durutti Column,
Bluetip,
The Standells,
Man Parrish,
Pole,
The Human League,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
CMW,
The Mummies,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ice-T,
Bill Near,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Lynne,
Roger Hodgson,
The Fugs,
Masters at Work,
Donny Hathaway,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Second Layer,
Circle Jerks,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.