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 Uruguay and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Brass Construction to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Young Rascals,
The United States of America,
Tom Boy,
Can,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cluster,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Unrelated Segments,
Mandrill,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Public Image Ltd.,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Divine Comedy,
Arab on Radar,
Neu!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Animal Collective,
Grey Daturas,
Severed Heads,
Franke,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The New Christs,
Joensuu 1685,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Howard Jones,
The Misunderstood,
Iggy Pop,
Danielle Patucci,
Sugar Minott,
Bill Near,
Man Parrish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Normal,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gichy Dan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Susan Cadogan,
Rufus Thomas,
Davy DMX,
the Bar-Kays,
Maurizio,
KRS-One,
China Crisis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeru the Damaja,
MDC,
Icehouse,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sam Rivers,
The Blues Magoos,
David Bowie,
Moss Icon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Don Cherry,
Visage,
Eric Copeland,
Index,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.