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 St Lucia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 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 The Cramps to the crunk 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Brass Construction,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Anakelly,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
Siglo XX,
The Toasters,
Angry Samoans,
Colin Newman,
Con Funk Shun,
Adolescents,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Hood,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Andrew Hill,
Lindisfarne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Minnie Riperton,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Man Parrish,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Move,
Eddi Front,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bob Dylan,
Fear,
These Immortal Souls,
Arthur Verocai,
Crispian St. Peters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Smiths,
OOIOO,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
New Age Steppers,
Laurel Aitken,
John Holt,
Bill Wells,
Rosa Yemen,
Brand Nubian,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jandek,
The Gories,
Vladislav Delay,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tim Buckley,
Fluxion,
The Cramps,
The Beau Brummels,
In Retrospect,
UT,
The Residents,
The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Jesus and Mary Chain.
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.