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 Liberia and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
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 Bobby Byrd to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
The Vogues,
Steve Hackett,
Henry Cow,
The Walker Brothers,
John Coltrane,
F. McDonald,
Severed Heads,
Tres Demented,
Cluster,
The J.B.'s,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jerry's Kids,
Sound Behaviour,
Unwound,
Alice Coltrane,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Audionom,
Gabor Szabo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pulsallama,
JFA,
Qualms,
Dead Boys,
Cal Tjader,
Moby Grape,
Patti Smith,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Judy Mowatt,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Doors,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Con Funk Shun,
The United States of America,
Carl Craig,
Rites of Spring,
A Certain Ratio,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skarface,
John Holt,
DJ Style,
Visage,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Raincoats,
The Angels of Light,
the Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Black Dice,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Darondo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Circle Jerks,
Brass Construction,
Grey Daturas,
Camberwell Now,
The Litter,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Sonics,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.