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 Tunisia and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Aloha Tigers,
Niagra,
Japan,
The Sonics,
Neu!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mantronix,
Crispian St. Peters,
Warren Ellis,
Sound Behaviour,
Swell Maps,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stetsasonic,
Echospace,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Mojo Men,
Ossler,
Delon & Dalcan,
Angry Samoans,
The Pretty Things,
Steve Hackett,
The Move,
Sun City Girls,
Theoretical Girls,
Junior Murvin,
The Trojans,
Metal Thangz,
Frankie Knuckles,
Newcleus,
Scan 7,
The Red Krayola,
Goldenarms,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Andrew Hill,
Banda Bassotti,
Dennis Brown,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hasil Adkins,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gang of Four,
Motorama,
Tom Boy,
Brothers Johnson,
These Immortal Souls,
Basic Channel,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Finger,
X-101,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sparks,
Robert Wyatt,
Eden Ahbez,
Altered Images,
Terry Callier,
Hot Snakes,
Thompson Twins,
a-ha,
Max Romeo,
The Music Machine,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.