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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 James White and The Blacks to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
Anthony Braxton,
Nation of Ulysses,
Magazine,
the Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
Model 500,
The Invisible,
Angry Samoans,
Cluster,
Connie Case,
Slick Rick,
Scratch Acid,
The Five Americans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Junior Murvin,
Nils Olav,
One Last Wish,
Carl Craig,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Terrestrial Tones,
Derrick May,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Byrd,
Alison Limerick,
Jerry's Kids,
The Count Five,
Ituana,
Throbbing Gristle,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tim Buckley,
The Happenings,
The Tremeloes,
The Wake,
Fugazi,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aswad,
Flipper,
Sandy B,
Make Up,
Echospace,
Roxy Music,
The Pretty Things,
Robert Hood,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hasil Adkins,
Josef K,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Toni Rubio,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalann,
Stereo Dub,
Bluetip,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Style,
Sun City Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barbara Tucker,
Kerrie Biddell,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.