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 Micronesia and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Country Teasers to the jazz 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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Flipper,
DJ Style,
Moebius,
Ponytail,
The Slackers,
Rakim,
Don Cherry,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The J.B.'s,
Second Layer,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Chris Corsano,
Amazonics,
Eden Ahbez,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Hot Snakes,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Count Five,
Agent Orange,
The Trojans,
Ludus,
Sun City Girls,
Neil Young,
Johnny Clarke,
Theoretical Girls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Skaos,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric Copeland,
Johnny Osbourne,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kaleidoscope,
Crime,
Scrapy,
Harry Pussy,
The Fortunes,
Cymande,
Godley & Creme,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pet Shop Boys,
AZ,
Depeche Mode,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cheater Slicks,
Babytalk,
The Gories,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The New Christs,
Quantec,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Joe Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
Roy Ayers,
Wasted Youth,
Bobby Byrd,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Terry Callier,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Peter & Gordon,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.