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 Turkmenistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Brass Construction to the disco 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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Gong,
Erykah Badu,
Jacques Brel,
Anthony Braxton,
Warsaw,
Soft Machine,
Electric Prunes,
Crash Course in Science,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Man Eating Sloth,
B.T. Express,
Camberwell Now,
ABC,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Faraquet,
Althea and Donna,
Maurizio,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Howard Jones,
The Human League,
Pagans,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Intrusion,
Half Japanese,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
PIL,
Japan,
One Last Wish,
the Association,
Radio Birdman,
Lightning Bolt,
The Black Dice,
Mad Mike,
Alton Ellis,
Theoretical Girls,
Nik Kershaw,
Donald Byrd,
Depeche Mode,
The Detroit Cobras,
Todd Terry,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Quadrant,
Desert Stars,
Dual Sessions,
T.S.O.L.,
Carl Craig,
Sam Rivers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Eyeless In Gaza,
These Immortal Souls,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra,
the Normal,
Make Up,
Loose Ends,
The Fuzztones,
Rekid,
Von Mondo,
The Dirtbombs,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.