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 Maldives and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Milan.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
The Doors,
Junior Murvin,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Essential Logic,
Interpol,
F. McDonald,
Crooked Eye,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Porter Ricks,
David Bowie,
Moebius,
Wasted Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
LL Cool J,
Accadde A,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Absolute Body Control,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Matthew Halsall,
Scott Walker,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Andrew Hill,
John Coltrane,
Lungfish,
Altered Images,
Faraquet,
Unrelated Segments,
The Cramps,
Laurel Aitken,
Heaven 17,
Sun Ra,
Al Stewart,
Dark Day,
Lou Reed,
The Human League,
Eric Dolphy,
OOIOO,
E-Dancer,
Symarip,
Ohio Players,
Ituana,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
The Music Machine,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
These Immortal Souls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.