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 Thailand and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Ken Boothe to the grime 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Royal Trux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minny Pops,
the Association,
Franke,
Anthony Braxton,
Joensuu 1685,
Wally Richardson,
Hot Snakes,
Altered Images,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gong,
Stetsasonic,
Ronnie Foster,
Alice Coltrane,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fatback Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Nirvana,
Roxy Music,
Tim Buckley,
John Lydon,
Fear,
Sparks,
Black Sheep,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Invisible,
The Dirtbombs,
cv313,
Chris Corsano,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Isaac Hayes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Flag,
Television Personalities,
Public Enemy,
In Retrospect,
The Dead C,
Lyres,
Jeff Mills,
Liliput,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Prince Buster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lungfish,
Cecil Taylor,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.