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 Kuwait and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Don Cherry 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
the Fania All-Stars,
Second Layer,
Blake Baxter,
the Germs,
This Heat,
Leonard Cohen,
In Retrospect,
Matthew Bourne,
The Mojo Men,
8 Eyed Spy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bizarre Inc.,
Erasure,
the Bar-Kays,
Drive Like Jehu,
Monks,
L. Decosne,
Bobby Womack,
Sarah Menescal,
Mr. Review,
Henry Cow,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pere Ubu,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blancmange,
48th St. Collective,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Throbbing Gristle,
Groovy Waters,
Althea and Donna,
The Last Poets,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
H. Thieme,
The Motions,
Adolescents,
Morten Harket,
Underground Resistance,
The Red Krayola,
Ten City,
The Young Rascals,
Hot Snakes,
Banda Bassotti,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scan 7,
The Leaves,
Robert Görl,
Jeff Lynne,
Cameo,
the Soft Cell,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Divine Comedy,
Sixth Finger,
Connie Case,
Danielle Patucci,
Agitation Free,
The Trojans,
The Techniques,
DJ Sneak,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.