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 Belize and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Alice Coltrane 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
the Association,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Desert Stars,
Franke,
Severed Heads,
Traffic Nightmare,
Zapp,
K-Klass,
Tom Boy,
Stetsasonic,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Moody Blues,
Monks,
The Grass Roots,
the Sonics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aaron Thompson,
Black Bananas,
Kerri Chandler,
The Mojo Men,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jandek,
Eric B and Rakim,
Funky Four + One,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ludus,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Moleskins,
Mr. Review,
New Age Steppers,
Unwound,
New Order,
F. McDonald,
Fugazi,
Kas Product,
Interpol,
Pylon,
Swans,
Alphaville,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mo-Dettes,
The Offenders,
Black Sheep,
Ultra Naté,
The Selecter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Junior Murvin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Derrick Morgan,
China Crisis,
Section 25,
Brothers Johnson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rites of Spring,
X-102,
Blossom Toes,
Electric Prunes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jacques Brel,
The Pretty Things,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.