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 Vietnam and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Wings to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
Don Cherry,
June Days,
Mars,
the Slits,
Severed Heads,
MC5,
Angry Samoans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dave Gahan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Excepter,
New Age Steppers,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Wake,
Derrick May,
KRS-One,
JFA,
Man Parrish,
Sonic Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Colin Newman,
The Neon Judgement,
Tres Demented,
Ohio Players,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Star Department,
Saccharine Trust,
Siglo XX,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Marine Girls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Liliput,
Joensuu 1685,
Reuben Wilson,
Brick,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Young Marble Giants,
Cecil Taylor,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Panda Bear,
Procol Harum,
Pere Ubu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Alphaville,
The Gap Band,
Essential Logic,
Eddi Front,
The Cure,
Alton Ellis,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.