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 Burkina and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Amazonics to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Technova tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Grey Daturas,
The Birthday Party,
Flipper,
48th St. Collective,
Con Funk Shun,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dawn Penn,
Lee Hazlewood,
DJ Style,
Suicide,
Qualms,
L. Decosne,
Dorothy Ashby,
Popol Vuh,
Eric Copeland,
Au Pairs,
Sandy B,
Susan Cadogan,
Wings,
Kas Product,
Darondo,
Black Flag,
Subhumans,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Liliput,
K-Klass,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scrapy,
Angry Samoans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Grass Roots,
Porter Ricks,
The Saints,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultra Naté,
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare,
The Dirtbombs,
Donny Hathaway,
Boogie Down Productions,
Shoche,
Josef K,
The Gun Club,
Howard Jones,
Mark Hollis,
Ultravox,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hasil Adkins,
Smog,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cowsills,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Bobby Byrd,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.