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 Andorra and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the jazz 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Pylon,
Cal Tjader,
The Walker Brothers,
T.S.O.L.,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
Mantronix,
Panda Bear,
Gabor Szabo,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fortunes,
Goldenarms,
Letta Mbulu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
Sex Pistols,
Glambeats Corp.,
Spoonie Gee,
Franke,
The Kinks,
Masters at Work,
John Cale,
Tim Buckley,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Junior Murvin,
The Last Poets,
Suburban Knight,
Nils Olav,
Porter Ricks,
The Birthday Party,
Siglo XX,
Minutemen,
Archie Shepp,
Severed Heads,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Motorama,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cure,
Morten Harket,
Thee Headcoats,
Rakim,
Anthony Braxton,
Jacques Brel,
the Sonics,
Average White Band,
The Saints,
Howard Jones,
The Blues Magoos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Andrew Hill,
The Black Dice,
Section 25,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.