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 Azerbaijan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer 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 The Fire Engines to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Aswad,
Chris Corsano,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ken Boothe,
Metal Thangz,
Mad Mike,
Lower 48,
Todd Rundgren,
Rod Modell,
Sparks,
Depeche Mode,
The Smiths,
Main Source,
The Misunderstood,
The Pretty Things,
Chris & Cosey,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yaz,
Derrick May,
Wings,
The Standells,
Eli Mardock,
Sam Rivers,
The Techniques,
One Last Wish,
Cybotron,
The Fall,
The Invisible,
Eve St. Jones,
Maurizio,
The Star Department,
Whodini,
Livin' Joy,
cv313,
Andrew Hill,
Neil Young,
Donny Hathaway,
Arthur Verocai,
The Raincoats,
The Blues Magoos,
Tommy Roe,
Pierre Henry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Infiniti,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crooked Eye,
Jeff Mills,
Carl Craig,
Can,
Joey Negro,
The Durutti Column,
Soft Machine,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scrapy,
The Tremeloes,
Silicon Teens,
Judy Mowatt,
The Sound,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.