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 Kiribati and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
H. Thieme,
The Vogues,
Bobby Womack,
In Retrospect,
Von Mondo,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
U.S. Maple,
Essential Logic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Faraquet,
Siglo XX,
Clear Light,
The Dirtbombs,
Shuggie Otis,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wolf Eyes,
The Raincoats,
Quantec,
Second Layer,
Stereo Dub,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-102,
China Crisis,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Icehouse,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joe Smooth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Andrew Hill,
Livin' Joy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pussy Galore,
Moby Grape,
Idris Muhammad,
Glenn Branca,
Motorama,
Grey Daturas,
Radiopuhelimet,
X-Ray Spex,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ken Boothe,
Heaven 17,
10cc,
The Offenders,
The Cure,
Can,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Agent Orange,
The Techniques,
June of 44,
Franke,
New York Dolls,
AZ,
Y Pants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Fat Boys,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.