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 Estonia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the funk 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scion,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Television Personalities,
Robert Görl,
Amon Düül,
Pierre Henry,
Crispian St. Peters,
T.S.O.L.,
Groovy Waters,
Hashim,
Delta 5,
Bronski Beat,
Henry Cow,
ABC,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lungfish,
The Blackbyrds,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hasil Adkins,
Janne Schatter,
Quadrant,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wasted Youth,
Q and Not U,
Livin' Joy,
F. McDonald,
Oneida,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Agitation Free,
The Blues Magoos,
Althea and Donna,
Sister Nancy,
Tommy Roe,
James White and The Blacks,
The Moleskins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Move,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Swans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gang of Four,
The Monochrome Set,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hardrive,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cybotron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Organ,
The Five Americans,
Nick Fraelich,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cowsills,
The Searchers,
The Music Machine,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.