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 Senegal and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer 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 arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Darondo,
Arthur Verocai,
Hasil Adkins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Man Parrish,
The Pretty Things,
The United States of America,
Vainqueur,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Green,
The Move,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Association,
The Black Dice,
Bang On A Can,
Nils Olav,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tom Boy,
Mr. Review,
MC5,
Fear,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Index,
The Busters,
The Fugs,
Magma,
Minor Threat,
Roxy Music,
H. Thieme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blake Baxter,
Barry Ungar,
Eddi Front,
Deadbeat,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dirtbombs,
Skriet,
New Order,
The Fortunes,
U.S. Maple,
Rosa Yemen,
Sun Ra,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tres Demented,
Kayak,
Maleditus Sound,
Bluetip,
Delon & Dalcan,
Babytalk,
The Flesh Eaters,
Chris Corsano,
Mars,
Stetsasonic,
Sparks,
In Retrospect,
Sarah Menescal,
The Smoke,
Camberwell Now,
Fela Kuti,
Fad Gadget,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.