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 Senegal and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sonics to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Make Up,
The Last Poets,
Derrick May,
Masters at Work,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Byrd,
Section 25,
Porter Ricks,
F. McDonald,
Soul II Soul,
The Searchers,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Lydon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Babytalk,
Man Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dead Boys,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Kinks,
Rod Modell,
The Names,
The Star Department,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dark Day,
Outsiders,
Anakelly,
Japan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pagans,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Chrome,
Soul Sonic Force,
DJ Sneak,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rotary Connection,
Organ,
Zero Boys,
Camouflage,
Wire,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tears for Fears,
Bootsy Collins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brothers Johnson,
Scion,
Matthew Halsall,
Gang of Four,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Robert Hood,
Hasil Adkins,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.