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 Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tres Demented to the punk 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Danielle Patucci,
Deepchord,
Rosa Yemen,
Country Teasers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Slits,
The Zeros,
Severed Heads,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lucky Dragons,
June Days,
Surgeon,
Banda Bassotti,
Davy DMX,
Gastr Del Sol,
Japan,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Iggy Pop,
X-Ray Spex,
Ohio Players,
Letta Mbulu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Depeche Mode,
The Birthday Party,
Pantytec,
Fela Kuti,
Organ,
8 Eyed Spy,
Television Personalities,
Chris Corsano,
Dark Day,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Johnny Clarke,
Moebius,
Agitation Free,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lalo Schifrin,
Qualms,
Charles Mingus,
Eddi Front,
Mr. Review,
Lakeside,
Sparks,
Thee Headcoats,
Traffic Nightmare,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slackers,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tres Demented,
Jeru the Damaja,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Gories,
Livin' Joy,
Simply Red,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Black Moon,
Q and Not U,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.