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 Senegal and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Mission of Burma to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Parrish,
Bang On A Can,
Tommy Roe,
Silicon Teens,
Dorothy Ashby,
Peter & Gordon,
Henry Cow,
Groovy Waters,
Surgeon,
The Walker Brothers,
Faust,
Cecil Taylor,
Alton Ellis,
Shuggie Otis,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lyres,
Laurel Aitken,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Young Rascals,
Peter and Kerry,
The Misunderstood,
Scrapy,
The Toasters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Smoke,
Bill Near,
Tim Buckley,
Funkadelic,
Roxette,
Aaron Thompson,
Sister Nancy,
Barry Ungar,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Motorama,
Supertramp,
The Motions,
The Flesh Eaters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fuzztones,
Amazonics,
Can,
Kaleidoscope,
a-ha,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Accadde A,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Stooges,
Boz Scaggs,
Alphaville,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Newcleus,
Altered Images,
The Wake,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Johnny Clarke,
The Mojo Men,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.