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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ 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 Babytalk to the grunge 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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Cameo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Panda Bear,
Groovy Waters,
Pierre Henry,
Unrelated Segments,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Seeds,
Kas Product,
The Pretty Things,
ABC,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Juan Atkins,
Eve St. Jones,
Youth Brigade,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hot Snakes,
Albert Ayler,
Soul Sonic Force,
Qualms,
The Leaves,
Harry Pussy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Idris Muhammad,
The Selecter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
MDC,
Marvin Gaye,
Sam Rivers,
Peter and Kerry,
Unwound,
Prince Buster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Misunderstood,
Camberwell Now,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
OOIOO,
Bauhaus,
Thompson Twins,
The Searchers,
48th St. Collective,
The Toasters,
Fad Gadget,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sun Ra,
Bang On A Can,
Can,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Index,
The Durutti Column,
Magma,
Joy Division,
the Human League,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rod Modell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Surgeon,
The Evens,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.