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 Maldives and from Columbus.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the grime 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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men 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 oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Names,
Severed Heads,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dead Boys,
Barry Ungar,
Morten Harket,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marine Girls,
Yazoo,
Absolute Body Control,
Sight & Sound,
DJ Style,
Panda Bear,
Erykah Badu,
The Remains,
Inner City,
Cheater Slicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultra Naté,
Essential Logic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Darondo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Terry Callier,
Cluster,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gastr Del Sol,
Blake Baxter,
Bad Manners,
Cameo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eric Dolphy,
Ornette Coleman,
Aaron Thompson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Toni Rubio,
Todd Rundgren,
The Shadows of Knight,
Popol Vuh,
Pylon,
Grauzone,
Archie Shepp,
Groovy Waters,
Rites of Spring,
Wasted Youth,
Alice Coltrane,
Nils Olav,
Loose Ends,
Wolf Eyes,
Eden Ahbez,
Swans,
Quantec,
Ken Boothe,
Soulsonic Force,
The Moody Blues,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.