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 Cambodia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacob Miller,
Arcadia,
The United States of America,
Charles Mingus,
Goldenarms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sixth Finger,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Thompson Twins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
KRS-One,
The Misunderstood,
Pagans,
Hot Snakes,
Sparks,
Magazine,
Connie Case,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash,
Todd Terry,
Roxy Music,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Moebius,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barbara Tucker,
the Human League,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
X-Ray Spex,
Peter & Gordon,
Harry Pussy,
Zero Boys,
The Gap Band,
The Slits,
Bobby Womack,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Juan Atkins,
Roy Ayers,
the Bar-Kays,
The Saints,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sexual Harrassment,
L. Decosne,
Deakin,
Accadde A,
Jimmy McGriff,
DJ Style,
Moss Icon,
The Fortunes,
Rufus Thomas,
the Normal,
Cal Tjader,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lower 48,
Half Japanese,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Model 500,
X-101,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.