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 Panama and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Frankie Knuckles 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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
The Sound,
Urselle,
The Doors,
the Human League,
The J.B.'s,
T.S.O.L.,
Donny Hathaway,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Roxy Music,
Pantaleimon,
Colin Newman,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lungfish,
Crooked Eye,
Cybotron,
Aswad,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Finger,
LL Cool J,
KRS-One,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wasted Youth,
Slave,
Lucky Dragons,
H. Thieme,
The Wake,
Black Pus,
Grey Daturas,
The Busters,
Charles Mingus,
John Holt,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
June of 44,
Funky Four + One,
The Searchers,
Monolake,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Standells,
Lebanon Hanover,
DNA,
Groovy Waters,
The Kinks,
The Real Kids,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun City Girls,
Nas,
Maurizio,
cv313,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harry Pussy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kayak,
Barry Ungar,
Brick,
Cal Tjader,
Bang On A Can,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.