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 Uzbekistan and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kenny Larkin to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
The Misunderstood,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Donald Byrd,
The Human League,
Reagan Youth,
John Cale,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Moon,
Roger Hodgson,
Alphaville,
Scientists,
The Gladiators,
Lyres,
Mission of Burma,
X-Ray Spex,
Cluster,
Make Up,
the Soft Cell,
Fat Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
kango's stein massive,
Radio Birdman,
Wolf Eyes,
Blancmange,
Roxy Music,
the Association,
Ultra Naté,
Avey Tare,
Skriet,
The Remains,
Wasted Youth,
Camouflage,
Isaac Hayes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Interpol,
Can,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mad Mike,
Ronnie Foster,
Organ,
Lungfish,
Wire,
Dennis Brown,
One Last Wish,
Inner City,
OOIOO,
Letta Mbulu,
CMW,
Bronski Beat,
X-102,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ornette Coleman,
John Lydon,
DJ Style,
The Doors,
The Sonics,
New York Dolls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Archie Shepp,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.