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 Tanzania and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Max Romeo to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Eric Dolphy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantaleimon,
The Evens,
10cc,
Tears for Fears,
Fear,
Loose Ends,
Sight & Sound,
David Bowie,
Warsaw,
Eurythmics,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skriet,
Motorama,
Terry Callier,
The Gun Club,
Panda Bear,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ralphi Rosario,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bob Dylan,
Albert Ayler,
Index,
Blancmange,
John Cale,
The Velvet Underground,
Vainqueur,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Germs,
The Beau Brummels,
Magazine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sound Behaviour,
Faust,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Joyce Sims,
Wally Richardson,
The Pop Group,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
Malaria!,
DJ Sneak,
James White and The Blacks,
Alison Limerick,
Livin' Joy,
Audionom,
Dave Gahan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scan 7,
John Lydon,
The Durutti Column,
Idris Muhammad,
Peter and Kerry,
Hardrive,
Jeff Lynne,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.