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 Austria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 R.M.O. to the disco 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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Dual Sessions,
Prince Buster,
Ponytail,
The Last Poets,
John Lydon,
The Happenings,
Mo-Dettes,
The Young Rascals,
Piero Umiliani,
Lalo Schifrin,
Surgeon,
Bang On A Can,
Bobby Byrd,
X-102,
Robert Wyatt,
Pantaleimon,
Das Ding,
Patti Smith,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Glenn Branca,
Cybotron,
Schoolly D,
The Mojo Men,
A Certain Ratio,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pagans,
Spandau Ballet,
Dark Day,
The Star Department,
Qualms,
Grauzone,
Sex Pistols,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
MC5,
Soft Machine,
Quando Quango,
Liliput,
Thee Headcoats,
The Neon Judgement,
One Last Wish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Raincoats,
The Red Krayola,
Ronnie Foster,
Brand Nubian,
Flash Fearless,
U.S. Maple,
The Slackers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Pere Ubu,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Barry Ungar,
Jeff Mills,
the Bar-Kays,
Little Man,
New Order,
Terry Callier,
The Fugs,
Eric B and Rakim,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.