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 Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eddi Front,
Motorama,
Todd Terry,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Selecter,
John Holt,
Darondo,
Charles Mingus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lightning Bolt,
The Victims,
Bobby Hutcherson,
R.M.O.,
The Motions,
Alison Limerick,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Index,
A Certain Ratio,
Deadbeat,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
Visage,
The Stooges,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Black Dice,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kurtis Blow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Rakim,
Dead Boys,
John Coltrane,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Brand Nubian,
The Fire Engines,
Pharoah Sanders,
UT,
Icehouse,
Theoretical Girls,
Panda Bear,
kango's stein massive,
Kerri Chandler,
Kaleidoscope,
Eli Mardock,
The United States of America,
The Durutti Column,
OOIOO,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Cowsills,
New York Dolls,
Bang On A Can,
Black Pus,
Make Up,
Loose Ends,
Quando Quango,
The Flesh Eaters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.