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 Jamaica and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Pus to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Association,
Popol Vuh,
The Smiths,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Letta Mbulu,
David McCallum,
Whodini,
Ice-T,
Bob Dylan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Franke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Blancmange,
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fluxion,
K-Klass,
Slick Rick,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Moon,
Tears for Fears,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moody Blues,
The Tremeloes,
The Remains,
La Düsseldorf,
Silicon Teens,
New Age Steppers,
Fear,
Susan Cadogan,
Desert Stars,
Hashim,
Flamin' Groovies,
Unwound,
The Five Americans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Porter Ricks,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Robert Wyatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Darondo,
Country Teasers,
B.T. Express,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lucky Dragons,
Brass Construction,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
PIL,
Accadde A,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Saints,
Motorama,
Steve Hackett,
Minutemen,
Supertramp,
Big Daddy Kane,
Simply Red,
Aural Exciters,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.