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 Zambia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Saints to the electroclash 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
The Doobie Brothers,
Electric Prunes,
Sällskapet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sister Nancy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dead Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
Ultimate Spinach,
Albert Ayler,
Quadrant,
Au Pairs,
Crime,
Bobby Womack,
the Fania All-Stars,
UT,
Suicide,
Tres Demented,
Little Man,
Steve Hackett,
Dawn Penn,
The Invisible,
The Techniques,
Sexual Harrassment,
Model 500,
Wings,
Brothers Johnson,
Eric Dolphy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
DNA,
The Last Poets,
The Smiths,
Mr. Review,
Pantaleimon,
Terry Callier,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Main Source,
Deepchord,
Eddi Front,
Cal Tjader,
Cameo,
Scott Walker,
Icehouse,
The Slits,
Sex Pistols,
The Leaves,
Barry Ungar,
Basic Channel,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eurythmics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Pus,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.