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 Mexico and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grunge 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quadrant record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
The Neon Judgement,
Agent Orange,
Robert Hood,
Rites of Spring,
Dennis Brown,
Eric B and Rakim,
Morten Harket,
Parry Music,
Ituana,
Audionom,
Wire,
Kaleidoscope,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Minnie Riperton,
Pantytec,
Gang Green,
The Standells,
ABC,
Make Up,
The Fugs,
Chrome,
Boredoms,
Mantronix,
The Last Poets,
Barry Ungar,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
Glenn Branca,
Pierre Henry,
Theoretical Girls,
Scratch Acid,
DNA,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Boogie Down Productions,
Average White Band,
Khruangbin,
Soul II Soul,
Gong,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stereo Dub,
Harry Pussy,
Rekid,
Fela Kuti,
Aloha Tigers,
Heaven 17,
Loose Ends,
Organ,
The Grass Roots,
Lower 48,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Don Cherry,
Urselle,
Stiv Bators,
Dark Day,
The Kinks,
Jawbox,
UT,
Neu!,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.