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 Kiribati and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron 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 This Heat to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
The Pretty Things,
Archie Shepp,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Happenings,
E-Dancer,
Vladislav Delay,
Flash Fearless,
Donny Hathaway,
Bang On A Can,
Fifty Foot Hose,
ABBA,
H. Thieme,
Camouflage,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Osbourne,
D'Angelo,
Wally Richardson,
Skarface,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Toasters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Reagan Youth,
The Misunderstood,
Idris Muhammad,
Magma,
Cluster,
Pere Ubu,
Soul II Soul,
Minor Threat,
Radio Birdman,
Roxette,
Dorothy Ashby,
Make Up,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Von Mondo,
Man Parrish,
Eric Dolphy,
The Zeros,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fuzztones,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Juan Atkins,
Whodini,
Little Man,
Derrick May,
Judy Mowatt,
Ice-T,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Drexciya,
Gang Green,
Kerri Chandler,
Talk Talk,
Khruangbin,
Pole,
the Sonics,
Wolf Eyes,
Buzzcocks,
Rakim,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.