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 Mauritania and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Hoover to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Scion,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Little Man,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
James White and The Blacks,
Popol Vuh,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bang On A Can,
Gong,
In Retrospect,
Ponytail,
Joe Smooth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Flash Fearless,
World's Most,
Marmalade,
Toni Rubio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Organ,
Desert Stars,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roxette,
The Move,
Tim Buckley,
Sonic Youth,
Quando Quango,
Joe Finger,
Delta 5,
Rosa Yemen,
The Doors,
Swans,
Smog,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Pop Group,
Todd Rundgren,
The Walker Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
Deakin,
Technova,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Warren Ellis,
Grey Daturas,
Zapp,
Public Image Ltd.,
John Lydon,
The Black Dice,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arcadia,
X-101,
Q65,
David Bowie,
Jesper Dahlback,
Avey Tare,
Crispy Ambulance,
Drexciya,
Blake Baxter,
Funky Four + One,
Bob Dylan,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.