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 Laos 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Smog to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jesper Dahlback,
Porter Ricks,
The Mummies,
Pylon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rapeman,
The Black Dice,
Morten Harket,
Marine Girls,
Index,
Half Japanese,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Womack,
Bauhaus,
Black Bananas,
Outsiders,
Max Romeo,
The Red Krayola,
Amon Düül II,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Association,
Scan 7,
Clear Light,
Curtis Mayfield,
Quantec,
Newcleus,
Danielle Patucci,
Nick Fraelich,
Model 500,
Lucky Dragons,
Bad Manners,
Subhumans,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Leaves,
Todd Terry,
Juan Atkins,
Cecil Taylor,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Marc Almond,
Soul Sonic Force,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare,
Funky Four + One,
Jeru the Damaja,
Yaz,
New Age Steppers,
Das Ding,
Slave,
The Sound,
Heaven 17,
Dennis Brown,
Banda Bassotti,
Bootsy Collins,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Names,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Slits,
Interpol,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.