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 Djibouti and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 JFA to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
June of 44,
Sugar Minott,
The Electric Prunes,
The Grass Roots,
Anthony Braxton,
Althea and Donna,
Loose Ends,
Underground Resistance,
Terry Callier,
Popol Vuh,
Albert Ayler,
Funkadelic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Q and Not U,
L. Decosne,
Harpers Bizarre,
10cc,
the Human League,
Godley & Creme,
AZ,
Marshall Jefferson,
Archie Shepp,
Man Parrish,
John Lydon,
Yellowson,
Ronnie Foster,
John Cale,
Eurythmics,
Mark Hollis,
Prince Buster,
Cheater Slicks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Second Layer,
Soft Machine,
Thompson Twins,
The Blues Magoos,
The Names,
Zero Boys,
Chris & Cosey,
The Gladiators,
the Bar-Kays,
Dawn Penn,
Erasure,
Isaac Hayes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Model 500,
Grey Daturas,
Carl Craig,
Quantec,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lebanon Hanover,
The United States of America,
Yazoo,
LL Cool J,
World's Most,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brass Construction,
K-Klass,
Lyres,
Desert Stars,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.