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 Columbus.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 Goldenarms to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sällskapet,
The Saints,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun City Girls,
The Pretty Things,
Panda Bear,
The Martian,
Joe Finger,
Ultra Naté,
Dual Sessions,
AZ,
Deadbeat,
Dead Boys,
The New Christs,
The Fire Engines,
The Pop Group,
Ponytail,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Duran Duran,
Anthony Braxton,
The Litter,
The Skatalites,
Tommy Roe,
Outsiders,
The Cramps,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eli Mardock,
Kool Moe Dee,
Roger Hodgson,
F. McDonald,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gories,
Ituana,
The Cure,
The Human League,
Fela Kuti,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tomorrow,
The Dead C,
Jeff Mills,
Wasted Youth,
Matthew Halsall,
UT,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fluxion,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Morten Harket,
Grauzone,
Boredoms,
Index,
The Trojans,
Terry Callier,
B.T. Express,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bang On A Can,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
June of 44,
Trumans Water,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.