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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Beasts of Bourbon to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
The Beau Brummels,
Flash Fearless,
Desert Stars,
Zero Boys,
D'Angelo,
The Busters,
Bobby Byrd,
Depeche Mode,
Rites of Spring,
Trumans Water,
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Subhumans,
Icehouse,
Echospace,
Brand Nubian,
Public Image Ltd.,
Arthur Verocai,
Joey Negro,
The United States of America,
Laurel Aitken,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Zeros,
Junior Murvin,
Cluster,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Saccharine Trust,
Smog,
the Human League,
The American Breed,
Liliput,
Terry Callier,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Procol Harum,
Delon & Dalcan,
Albert Ayler,
Adolescents,
The Black Dice,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Normal,
Alison Limerick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eurythmics,
Gang Gang Dance,
John Foxx,
Minutemen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gabor Szabo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lungfish,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kerri Chandler,
Minor Threat,
Mo-Dettes,
Qualms,
CMW,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jacob Miller,
Negative Approach,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.