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 Latvia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Lungfish,
Mandrill,
Interpol,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lalo Schifrin,
Howard Jones,
The Kinks,
The Wake,
China Crisis,
Chris Corsano,
kango's stein massive,
ABBA,
Monolake,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Five Americans,
T. Rex,
Accadde A,
Franke,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Skriet,
Jimmy McGriff,
Au Pairs,
Boz Scaggs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minnie Riperton,
Nils Olav,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bill Wells,
Pantytec,
Joyce Sims,
The Doors,
Half Japanese,
the Bar-Kays,
The Evens,
The Music Machine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Judy Mowatt,
Prince Buster,
Junior Murvin,
Gang of Four,
T.S.O.L.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grauzone,
Bootsy Collins,
Gang Starr,
the Soft Cell,
Harry Pussy,
Josef K,
John Foxx,
Brothers Johnson,
New Order,
Carl Craig,
Trumans Water,
The Zeros,
Bobby Byrd,
Ultimate Spinach,
Masters at Work,
Sarah Menescal,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.