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 Guatemala and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Jerry's Kids 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
R.M.O.,
Franke,
Camouflage,
Grauzone,
The Fortunes,
MDC,
Unrelated Segments,
Bush Tetras,
The Skatalites,
Mars,
Gichy Dan,
Sonic Youth,
Jandek,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anthony Braxton,
The Detroit Cobras,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cure,
Eurythmics,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Martian,
Buzzcocks,
Angry Samoans,
Brass Construction,
Aaron Thompson,
the Association,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brothers Johnson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skriet,
Joensuu 1685,
Talk Talk,
Scion,
The Misunderstood,
Don Cherry,
The Fire Engines,
Aswad,
Lungfish,
Ituana,
UT,
The Sonics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sandy B,
Sun Ra,
Chris & Cosey,
Model 500,
Pantytec,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
Banda Bassotti,
Todd Rundgren,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gap Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Bar-Kays,
Q and Not U,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nils Olav,
Nas,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.