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 Tuvalu and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 oboe 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 Anthony Braxton to the crunk 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Slave,
Sexual Harrassment,
Index,
Yellowson,
The Modern Lovers,
Funkadelic,
Drive Like Jehu,
Grandmaster Flash,
John Coltrane,
Fluxion,
Nils Olav,
Fat Boys,
The Grass Roots,
The Count Five,
the Soft Cell,
The Evens,
Gong,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joy Division,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Byron Stingily,
Pole,
The Remains,
Niagra,
Cecil Taylor,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Womack,
Bob Dylan,
The Dead C,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young,
Cybotron,
Simply Red,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hasil Adkins,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Absolute Body Control,
The Zeros,
The Wake,
Ludus,
Eric Copeland,
X-101,
Magazine,
The Searchers,
Minny Pops,
The Seeds,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Can,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-Ray Spex,
Second Layer,
Eric Dolphy,
Sällskapet,
The Five Americans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Interpol,
Delta 5,
Marmalade,
the Fania All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Procol Harum,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.