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 Comoros and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the electroclash 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Pole,
Roger Hodgson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fortunes,
Echospace,
Sällskapet,
Kaleidoscope,
Suburban Knight,
The Gun Club,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Roy Ayers,
Deepchord,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun Ra,
James White and The Blacks,
ABC,
Desert Stars,
Cal Tjader,
The Angels of Light,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Arcadia,
Tears for Fears,
Flipper,
These Immortal Souls,
Max Romeo,
Quando Quango,
Lyres,
Lou Christie,
The Index,
F. McDonald,
Patti Smith,
Warsaw,
Popol Vuh,
DJ Style,
Make Up,
Dawn Penn,
Gang of Four,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grauzone,
Matthew Halsall,
Barclay James Harvest,
R.M.O.,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Offenders,
Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pantytec,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Erykah Badu,
The Remains,
Bang On A Can,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Neil Young,
The Five Americans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ludus,
Pussy Galore,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.