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 Dominican Republic and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Brick to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Minny Pops,
Little Man,
Niagra,
Television,
Lower 48,
10cc,
Accadde A,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Andrew Hill,
Deepchord,
Oneida,
Glenn Branca,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kayak,
David Bowie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Invisible,
Magma,
E-Dancer,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
China Crisis,
Rotary Connection,
The Last Poets,
ABC,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Masters at Work,
Bootsy Collins,
Groovy Waters,
Roxy Music,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Michelle Simonal,
The Saints,
Hoover,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
This Heat,
Hashim,
Kerri Chandler,
Nick Fraelich,
Peter and Kerry,
Arthur Verocai,
Erasure,
Erykah Badu,
A Certain Ratio,
Flash Fearless,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
T. Rex,
Bobby Womack,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Soft Cell,
Faraquet,
David Axelrod,
Derrick Morgan,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.