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 Oman and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 K-Klass to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
Stereo Dub,
Circle Jerks,
Mr. Review,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Wake,
48th St. Collective,
The Angels of Light,
Roxy Music,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harpers Bizarre,
Donny Hathaway,
Von Mondo,
Fela Kuti,
Rotary Connection,
Freddie Wadling,
Eurythmics,
Index,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Babytalk,
the Fania All-Stars,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dirtbombs,
Franke,
Don Cherry,
Audionom,
Anthony Braxton,
Lee Hazlewood,
Massinfluence,
Chris Corsano,
the Slits,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Letta Mbulu,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Durutti Column,
The Grass Roots,
The Martian,
Rosa Yemen,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Human League,
Surgeon,
Brothers Johnson,
Chrome,
The Residents,
Cecil Taylor,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Whodini,
Hoover,
Jeff Lynne,
Albert Ayler,
the Normal,
Amon Düül,
Eden Ahbez,
Pierre Henry,
Michelle Simonal,
Boz Scaggs,
Blancmange,
Neil Young,
Lindisfarne,
The Golliwogs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.