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 Equatorial Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 theremin 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 Gabor Szabo to the dance 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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Gregory Isaacs,
June of 44,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Visage,
Godley & Creme,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lou Christie,
Funky Four + One,
Eve St. Jones,
F. McDonald,
Susan Cadogan,
Y Pants,
Mr. Review,
Magazine,
Charles Mingus,
Main Source,
Carl Craig,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Massinfluence,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Finger,
JFA,
The Zeros,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Terrestrial Tones,
Arthur Verocai,
Sex Pistols,
Neil Young,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
Chris Corsano,
The Cure,
Delon & Dalcan,
Archie Shepp,
The United States of America,
Gang of Four,
A Certain Ratio,
Kaleidoscope,
Silicon Teens,
Blake Baxter,
The Last Poets,
Wire,
Slave,
Tears for Fears,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fluxion,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Womack,
10cc,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Camberwell Now,
The Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L.,
Sandy B,
The Star Department,
Au Pairs,
Maurizio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.