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 Senegal and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Beau Brummels to the techno 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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Don Cherry,
Surgeon,
Flipper,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Sherman,
Rotary Connection,
One Last Wish,
Albert Ayler,
John Foxx,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Seeds,
Swans,
Matthew Halsall,
Terry Callier,
The Velvet Underground,
The Invisible,
Ossler,
DNA,
Amazonics,
The Residents,
John Coltrane,
F. McDonald,
The Stooges,
Robert Görl,
Minnie Riperton,
A Certain Ratio,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Icehouse,
Jeff Lynne,
Howard Jones,
Ken Boothe,
This Heat,
CMW,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tropical Tobacco,
Junior Murvin,
Aloha Tigers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
DJ Style,
Judy Mowatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Matthew Bourne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Fall,
Morten Harket,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Index,
Technova,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jandek,
Ultravox,
Japan,
The Gun Club,
Rosa Yemen,
Idris Muhammad,
Peter and Kerry,
The Count Five,
Gichy Dan,
Erasure,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.