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 Kyrgyzstan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
Charles Mingus,
Amon Düül II,
Lower 48,
The Vogues,
The Cramps,
Fad Gadget,
Absolute Body Control,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Star Department,
Talk Talk,
Spandau Ballet,
Cal Tjader,
Roxette,
Main Source,
Soft Cell,
Eddi Front,
Byron Stingily,
Alphaville,
The Smiths,
The Angels of Light,
Sällskapet,
Faust,
Carl Craig,
Cluster,
Fatback Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Severed Heads,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang On A Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Visage,
Bobby Sherman,
The Music Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Slave,
Minutemen,
Intrusion,
EPMD,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Yellowson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Move,
Erasure,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joyce Sims,
Maleditus Sound,
Reuben Wilson,
R.M.O.,
the Association,
Lakeside,
Sonny Sharrock,
Liliput,
The Birthday Party,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gabor Szabo,
Skaos,
Albert Ayler,
Kayak,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.