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 Costa Rica and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Misunderstood to the rock 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Piero Umiliani,
Malaria!,
F. McDonald,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Wolf Eyes,
Radiopuhelimet,
X-101,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Masters at Work,
Subhumans,
B.T. Express,
The Golliwogs,
Supertramp,
Cameo,
Minor Threat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Donald Byrd,
Joyce Sims,
Guru Guru,
Soft Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Sonic Youth,
Simply Red,
Hot Snakes,
The New Christs,
Derrick May,
Faraquet,
Ludus,
Khruangbin,
Neu!,
Boredoms,
Chris & Cosey,
Danielle Patucci,
Sun Ra,
Slave,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skaos,
Popol Vuh,
Terry Callier,
Sam Rivers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Howard Jones,
Ralphi Rosario,
AZ,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantaleimon,
Motorama,
Dawn Penn,
EPMD,
Theoretical Girls,
Ohio Players,
Dark Day,
Carl Craig,
Marc Almond,
The Durutti Column,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.