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 Pakistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mr. Review to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Don Cherry,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Procol Harum,
PIL,
Monks,
Excepter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nas,
Bang On A Can,
Maleditus Sound,
June of 44,
Visage,
Depeche Mode,
Gastr Del Sol,
Eve St. Jones,
Rhythm & Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Infiniti,
The Moody Blues,
Eden Ahbez,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aaron Thompson,
Peter and Kerry,
Ohio Players,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Reuben Wilson,
Pulsallama,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Easy Going,
Los Fastidios,
Iggy Pop,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jesper Dahlback,
Subhumans,
Avey Tare,
The Motions,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Reagan Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ralphi Rosario,
Arcadia,
Lyres,
Joyce Sims,
Drexciya,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Smoke,
Jawbox,
Susan Cadogan,
Brand Nubian,
Roy Ayers,
Mars,
Magazine,
Kenny Larkin,
Donny Hathaway,
Chrome,
Theoretical Girls,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.