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 Korea North and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Rosa Yemen to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Eric Copeland,
Sixth Finger,
David Bowie,
The Busters,
The Divine Comedy,
Depeche Mode,
The Black Dice,
The Happenings,
Mary Jane Girls,
Carl Craig,
Deepchord,
Funky Four + One,
Grey Daturas,
Ohio Players,
Angry Samoans,
Can,
Panda Bear,
Black Moon,
Duran Duran,
Ice-T,
The Invisible,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wire,
Jacques Brel,
Theoretical Girls,
Gong,
Leonard Cohen,
Michelle Simonal,
Bang On A Can,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cowsills,
Aloha Tigers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Funkadelic,
David McCallum,
The J.B.'s,
CMW,
Maleditus Sound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Evens,
Gang Green,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cluster,
Mo-Dettes,
Kas Product,
Tom Boy,
Mission of Burma,
The Gun Club,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Donny Hathaway,
Spandau Ballet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rosa Yemen,
Robert Hood,
Scott Walker,
Neu!,
The Five Americans,
Wally Richardson,
New Order,
Erasure,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.