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 Kuwait and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Arcadia to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
Gang Green,
The Five Americans,
Mission of Burma,
the Slits,
The Monks,
Eric Dolphy,
Anthony Braxton,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cameo,
Gang of Four,
The Raincoats,
Aaron Thompson,
In Retrospect,
Todd Rundgren,
Gerry Rafferty,
Simply Red,
Lindisfarne,
Byron Stingily,
Alice Coltrane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Wells,
Deadbeat,
Nation of Ulysses,
The American Breed,
Darondo,
Jacques Brel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
T.S.O.L.,
The Count Five,
Sonny Sharrock,
Yazoo,
Heaven 17,
Marmalade,
Severed Heads,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
X-102,
Rekid,
Theoretical Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
Leonard Cohen,
Rosa Yemen,
48th St. Collective,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cabaret Voltaire,
U.S. Maple,
Suicide,
Bill Near,
James White and The Blacks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Underground Resistance,
the Swans,
The Mummies,
Pantaleimon,
JFA,
Tears for Fears,
Pussy Galore,
Crash Course in Science,
H. Thieme,
Hardrive,
Graham Central Station,
AZ,
The Saints,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.