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 Yemen and from Johannesburg.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Amazonics,
Blossom Toes,
Bobby Womack,
Danielle Patucci,
Masters at Work,
The Remains,
Gichy Dan,
Graham Central Station,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jawbox,
Slave,
Spandau Ballet,
Marshall Jefferson,
The J.B.'s,
The Smiths,
Avey Tare,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eve St. Jones,
Au Pairs,
Magazine,
Cal Tjader,
Maleditus Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Faust,
Main Source,
Siglo XX,
Audionom,
Tim Buckley,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aloha Tigers,
Mark Hollis,
Reuben Wilson,
Erasure,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eddi Front,
Magma,
Sixth Finger,
Ralphi Rosario,
Severed Heads,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Anakelly,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Bananas,
MC5,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kerri Chandler,
Mad Mike,
Lee Hazlewood,
Radiopuhelimet,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Selecter,
Ultravox,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Monochrome Set,
kango's stein massive,
Pere Ubu,
The Walker Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
Peter and Kerry,
Moebius,
Guru Guru,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.