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 Benin and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
The Searchers,
A Certain Ratio,
Organ,
Newcleus,
Fela Kuti,
Audionom,
The Beau Brummels,
The Durutti Column,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Alison Limerick,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tears for Fears,
Sister Nancy,
Moby Grape,
Rufus Thomas,
Jacques Brel,
Mandrill,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
Simply Red,
Barclay James Harvest,
Animal Collective,
Byron Stingily,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cybotron,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Man Parrish,
The Slits,
Symarip,
Magma,
Reagan Youth,
Slave,
Gil Scott Heron,
Infiniti,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minnie Riperton,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yaz,
The Angels of Light,
Joe Finger,
Crime,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Archie Shepp,
Warsaw,
The United States of America,
Livin' Joy,
The Blues Magoos,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Offenders,
The Doors,
Ludus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lower 48,
The Happenings,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.