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 Lithuania and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 A Certain Ratio to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
F. McDonald,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sarah Menescal,
The Vogues,
Motorama,
Janne Schatter,
Siglo XX,
The Grass Roots,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Darondo,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Blackbyrds,
The Walker Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Pus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Star Department,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kool Moe Dee,
Spandau Ballet,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacob Miller,
Mad Mike,
Maleditus Sound,
Mark Hollis,
X-102,
Subhumans,
Harry Pussy,
Tommy Roe,
Deakin,
John Holt,
Kenny Larkin,
Alison Limerick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Model 500,
Slave,
Rufus Thomas,
Pussy Galore,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Prince Buster,
Accadde A,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Five Americans,
Man Parrish,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Chrome,
Shuggie Otis,
The Detroit Cobras,
H. Thieme,
In Retrospect,
Ohio Players,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sound Behaviour,
KRS-One,
Au Pairs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes, Justin Hinds & The Dominoes.
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.