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 Philippines and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mandrill to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All Aswad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
MC5,
The Monks,
Bobby Byrd,
The Residents,
Smog,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lyres,
Kenny Larkin,
The Trojans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pole,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tubeway Army,
Soft Machine,
Nik Kershaw,
Minor Threat,
The Gap Band,
Barrington Levy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
John Cale,
DNA,
Leonard Cohen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
L. Decosne,
Electric Prunes,
One Last Wish,
Blossom Toes,
The Barracudas,
David Axelrod,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Angels of Light,
Scion,
Aaron Thompson,
Second Layer,
Neu!,
Khruangbin,
Silicon Teens,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Derrick May,
Agitation Free,
Sarah Menescal,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ossler,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Chris Corsano,
D'Angelo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Warren Ellis,
Junior Murvin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lungfish,
Camberwell Now,
June of 44,
EPMD,
cv313,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.