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 Colombia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare 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 Slick Rick to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Rapeman,
Sister Nancy,
Quando Quango,
Audionom,
EPMD,
The Flesh Eaters,
Maurizio,
The Associates,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cluster,
Gang of Four,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nik Kershaw,
The Young Rascals,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Y Pants,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fluxion,
China Crisis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Near,
Althea and Donna,
The Happenings,
Grey Daturas,
T.S.O.L.,
Howard Jones,
Henry Cow,
In Retrospect,
Gang Gang Dance,
June of 44,
Visage,
The United States of America,
Dark Day,
The Black Dice,
Danielle Patucci,
Lou Christie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kurtis Blow,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Davy DMX,
Circle Jerks,
Archie Shepp,
The Doobie Brothers,
MDC,
Liliput,
Agitation Free,
Fela Kuti,
Gastr Del Sol,
Avey Tare,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gun Club,
Pussy Galore,
PIL,
Bob Dylan,
Black Sheep,
Warsaw,
Letta Mbulu,
The Dirtbombs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.