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 South Africa and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the sitar 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 the Swans to the crunk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
John Coltrane,
The Star Department,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scientists,
Ten City,
Urselle,
kango's stein massive,
Scott Walker,
The Barracudas,
Brass Construction,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Electric Prunes,
Electric Prunes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Trumans Water,
E-Dancer,
Black Flag,
Ornette Coleman,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
The Smiths,
Ronan,
KRS-One,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Velvet Underground,
Echospace,
Quando Quango,
Flipper,
Soulsonic Force,
Maurizio,
The Blues Magoos,
Eden Ahbez,
Jimmy McGriff,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mummies,
Cybotron,
Brand Nubian,
Jandek,
The Happenings,
Aswad,
Ituana,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Judy Mowatt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Make Up,
Johnny Clarke,
Crispian St. Peters,
Reuben Wilson,
Duran Duran,
The Evens,
Basic Channel,
Arab on Radar,
Donald Byrd,
Wings,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Malaria!,
Crooked Eye,
The Searchers,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.