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 Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe 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 Maurizio to the grunge 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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Minnie Riperton,
Television,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Evens,
Rapeman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Monolake,
The J.B.'s,
Scan 7,
Wire,
Jerry's Kids,
Piero Umiliani,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sixth Finger,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wally Richardson,
The Fugs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Con Funk Shun,
Henry Cow,
Cecil Taylor,
Trumans Water,
Kurtis Blow,
Ludus,
Brand Nubian,
Goldenarms,
Mission of Burma,
Cymande,
The Buckinghams,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Theoretical Girls,
The New Christs,
Blossom Toes,
Mantronix,
ABBA,
Animal Collective,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
New Age Steppers,
Peter & Gordon,
Warsaw,
Laurel Aitken,
Oblivians,
Easy Going,
Kool Moe Dee,
Darondo,
Fatback Band,
Section 25,
Scott Walker,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultra Naté,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gang Starr,
Black Pus,
The Fire Engines,
Flipper,
Gang Green,
T.S.O.L.,
Excepter,
D'Angelo,
Quantec,
The Gladiators,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.