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 Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fall to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Lucky Dragons,
Joy Division,
Can,
Archie Shepp,
Harry Pussy,
Television,
Jeff Lynne,
Glambeats Corp.,
Todd Terry,
Liliput,
Arab on Radar,
Bad Manners,
kango's stein massive,
Loose Ends,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Neil Young,
Sex Pistols,
Jawbox,
Pierre Henry,
Johnny Osbourne,
June of 44,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Leaves,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rufus Thomas,
Mary Jane Girls,
Infiniti,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Brass Construction,
Rekid,
Skarface,
X-101,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fugazi,
Moss Icon,
Saccharine Trust,
Rod Modell,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cramps,
Scientists,
Desert Stars,
The Smoke,
Gabor Szabo,
Delta 5,
Gichy Dan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bush Tetras,
Dead Boys,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeff Mills,
Minnie Riperton,
Los Fastidios,
Bauhaus,
Joyce Sims,
The Cure,
The Gladiators,
F. McDonald,
Agitation Free,
Buzzcocks,
Wally Richardson,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.