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 Madagascar and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 güiro 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 Barracudas to the jazz 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Joy Division,
Icehouse,
Thompson Twins,
Tres Demented,
Yusef Lateef,
Bad Manners,
Sun City Girls,
Sandy B,
Neil Young,
Massinfluence,
Terrestrial Tones,
Depeche Mode,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Eating Sloth,
Erasure,
The Invisible,
Kerri Chandler,
Fugazi,
Television Personalities,
Sugar Minott,
Rakim,
X-Ray Spex,
AZ,
The Barracudas,
Procol Harum,
Andrew Hill,
Flipper,
Todd Terry,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Five Americans,
Shuggie Otis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Colin Newman,
Terry Callier,
Skaos,
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ornette Coleman,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Birthday Party,
Moby Grape,
Crash Course in Science,
Lower 48,
Scratch Acid,
Josef K,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
T. Rex,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rapeman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Hot Snakes,
Roy Ayers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
F. McDonald,
Ohio Players,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.