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 Estonia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator 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 Arab on Radar to the rap 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grauzone,
Cameo,
Qualms,
Sandy B,
Kayak,
The Count Five,
DJ Style,
Angry Samoans,
Quando Quango,
Drexciya,
U.S. Maple,
Albert Ayler,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fugs,
cv313,
Dark Day,
The Monks,
Symarip,
The Victims,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Minny Pops,
Steve Hackett,
Japan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vainqueur,
Maurizio,
Fatback Band,
The Residents,
Grey Daturas,
the Germs,
Juan Atkins,
Magazine,
Arcadia,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bill Near,
The Blackbyrds,
The Stooges,
Electric Prunes,
David Bowie,
Technova,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jacob Miller,
Deakin,
Metal Thangz,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scrapy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Mojo Men,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Knickerbockers,
The Five Americans,
John Coltrane,
The Saints,
Monks,
the Bar-Kays,
The Smiths,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.