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 Ivory Coast and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Heaven 17 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Smog,
Severed Heads,
Wasted Youth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Moody Blues,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
June Days,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Quadrant,
Animal Collective,
Aaron Thompson,
Trumans Water,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Victims,
Shoche,
Nas,
The Cowsills,
Leonard Cohen,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Five Americans,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
La Düsseldorf,
The Sonics,
OOIOO,
Quando Quango,
Khruangbin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Suicide,
The Remains,
Ronnie Foster,
Deakin,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Holt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Vogues,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lindisfarne,
Ultravox,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lebanon Hanover,
Guru Guru,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Das Ding,
Theoretical Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Schoolly D,
Hot Snakes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Pus,
John Cale,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kas Product,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.