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 Samoa and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Gang Starr to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scott Walker,
Wally Richardson,
Piero Umiliani,
Skaos,
The Golliwogs,
Zapp,
Jawbox,
Altered Images,
Barry Ungar,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Don Cherry,
Jacques Brel,
Brand Nubian,
The Real Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Donny Hathaway,
Mark Hollis,
Joe Smooth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pussy Galore,
Nils Olav,
Maurizio,
Rufus Thomas,
Arcadia,
David McCallum,
Nas,
The Dead C,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blossom Toes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Smog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
T.S.O.L.,
Massinfluence,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Con Funk Shun,
Roxy Music,
New Age Steppers,
Yazoo,
Fat Boys,
the Swans,
Darondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Motions,
Groovy Waters,
Pylon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Alton Ellis,
Blake Baxter,
Gichy Dan,
Rakim,
Sun City Girls,
Glenn Branca,
Los Fastidios,
Mad Mike,
Duran Duran,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.