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 Laos and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Danielle Patucci to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Maleditus Sound,
H. Thieme,
The Count Five,
Nation of Ulysses,
Erykah Badu,
David Axelrod,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Malaria!,
Circle Jerks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Popol Vuh,
Bauhaus,
Lou Christie,
Nils Olav,
Roxy Music,
Gabor Szabo,
The Black Dice,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deadbeat,
Sun City Girls,
The Barracudas,
The Walker Brothers,
The Victims,
The Detroit Cobras,
Danielle Patucci,
The Gladiators,
Harry Pussy,
Excepter,
Bob Dylan,
X-Ray Spex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Reagan Youth,
Arthur Verocai,
Susan Cadogan,
Little Man,
Pulsallama,
Connie Case,
Hoover,
This Heat,
Lyres,
UT,
Scientists,
Sparks,
Junior Murvin,
Scrapy,
The Slits,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jacob Miller,
Joey Negro,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Smiths,
Khruangbin,
Nico,
MDC,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Soulsonic Force,
John Coltrane,
The Mojo Men,
Deepchord,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.