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 Tunisia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the funk 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Section 25,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Michelle Simonal,
Qualms,
Ponytail,
Eric Copeland,
The Blues Magoos,
Mo-Dettes,
Althea and Donna,
Newcleus,
Swans,
Sister Nancy,
Archie Shepp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Cell,
Janne Schatter,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joy Division,
Grey Daturas,
D'Angelo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Warren Ellis,
Andrew Hill,
Pere Ubu,
Outsiders,
Spoonie Gee,
The Stooges,
Wings,
Alison Limerick,
ABBA,
Todd Rundgren,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lyres,
Rapeman,
Trumans Water,
T. Rex,
Tom Boy,
World's Most,
the Swans,
Main Source,
The Names,
The Selecter,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Procol Harum,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sarah Menescal,
Sight & Sound,
Liliput,
Masters at Work,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kayak,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hot Snakes,
New York Dolls,
Fatback Band,
The Invisible,
Guru Guru,
Mars,
Minutemen,
Gichy Dan,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.