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 Ukraine and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Ludus to the jazz 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Bob Dylan,
Flipper,
Essential Logic,
The Index,
Rakim,
Guru Guru,
Carl Craig,
Youth Brigade,
the Sonics,
Pole,
Suburban Knight,
Sister Nancy,
Goldenarms,
Khruangbin,
Scion,
F. McDonald,
The Cure,
Jeru the Damaja,
Faraquet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lindisfarne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Livin' Joy,
The Zeros,
Funkadelic,
Hardrive,
Panda Bear,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cybotron,
Godley & Creme,
Section 25,
Tomorrow,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Walker Brothers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Leonard Cohen,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
B.T. Express,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Minnie Riperton,
Roxette,
the Bar-Kays,
Man Eating Sloth,
Magma,
Donald Byrd,
Y Pants,
Aloha Tigers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jimmy McGriff,
Colin Newman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pantytec,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.