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 Jamaica and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 Funky Four + One to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Parrish,
Pet Shop Boys,
New York Dolls,
Yaz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Icehouse,
Ronnie Foster,
The Gap Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Scrapy,
Oneida,
OOIOO,
Bronski Beat,
F. McDonald,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Angry Samoans,
Index,
Chrome,
Kas Product,
The Gories,
Sugar Minott,
Swans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Skarface,
Roxette,
Bizarre Inc.,
Television Personalities,
Robert Hood,
Fear,
Hasil Adkins,
DNA,
The Red Krayola,
Don Cherry,
Drive Like Jehu,
Little Man,
John Coltrane,
In Retrospect,
June of 44,
The New Christs,
Excepter,
The Offenders,
Bluetip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mars,
Public Enemy,
Oblivians,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Young Marble Giants,
Boz Scaggs,
Byron Stingily,
Alison Limerick,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minutemen,
Echospace,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ohio Players,
Piero Umiliani,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.