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 Kiribati and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Andrew Hill to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Robert Hood,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
8 Eyed Spy,
June of 44,
Isaac Hayes,
Terry Callier,
Steve Hackett,
The Tremeloes,
The Move,
Excepter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Saccharine Trust,
Country Teasers,
Amazonics,
Lakeside,
Deepchord,
Nico,
Guru Guru,
The Walker Brothers,
T. Rex,
Animal Collective,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sex Pistols,
Scion,
Cecil Taylor,
The Smiths,
Popol Vuh,
Lindisfarne,
The Golliwogs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Q65,
Drive Like Jehu,
Morten Harket,
Derrick May,
Hardrive,
Yaz,
Kayak,
The Barracudas,
Bootsy Collins,
Jawbox,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Real Kids,
Brothers Johnson,
Donald Byrd,
Arthur Verocai,
Inner City,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Brick,
ABBA,
World's Most,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Yellowson,
Eve St. Jones,
Byron Stingily,
Radiopuhelimet,
Magma,
Infiniti,
Lyres,
Visage,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.