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 Colombia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the jazz 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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gories,
Sun City Girls,
48th St. Collective,
Agent Orange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Grass Roots,
Masters at Work,
T.S.O.L.,
Con Funk Shun,
Malaria!,
The Martian,
The Fall,
Tommy Roe,
Trumans Water,
Soft Machine,
Animal Collective,
Sight & Sound,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Sheep,
June Days,
Kenny Larkin,
Mr. Review,
Section 25,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Icehouse,
The Wake,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scan 7,
Wally Richardson,
Outsiders,
Soulsonic Force,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gichy Dan,
Sixth Finger,
Glambeats Corp.,
R.M.O.,
Slave,
U.S. Maple,
The Fugs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Monks,
Depeche Mode,
Pylon,
Yellowson,
the Slits,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Cale,
Graham Central Station,
Jerry's Kids,
Joy Division,
Gabor Szabo,
Barrington Levy,
Make Up,
Tubeway Army,
EPMD,
Main Source,
Gang Starr,
The Saints,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.