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 El Salvador and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 Suburban Knight to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Nils Olav,
The Martian,
L. Decosne,
Pantaleimon,
The Move,
Barbara Tucker,
Public Enemy,
Nick Fraelich,
Glenn Branca,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Spandau Ballet,
Lungfish,
The American Breed,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Misunderstood,
Pharoah Sanders,
Suicide,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobby Sherman,
Alice Coltrane,
Underground Resistance,
Nik Kershaw,
The Victims,
Archie Shepp,
Can,
Popol Vuh,
The Moleskins,
Maurizio,
The Dirtbombs,
Mr. Review,
E-Dancer,
Minny Pops,
Country Teasers,
Jawbox,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Association,
Yusef Lateef,
Joyce Sims,
Donny Hathaway,
Harpers Bizarre,
Don Cherry,
Drexciya,
The Trojans,
The Blues Magoos,
10cc,
Brothers Johnson,
Sugar Minott,
Dorothy Ashby,
Section 25,
Graham Central Station,
Von Mondo,
Derrick May,
Laurel Aitken,
Stetsasonic,
Arcadia,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Funkadelic,
D'Angelo,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.