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 Korea North and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sexual Harrassment to the rap 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
F. McDonald,
Fluxion,
Donny Hathaway,
Supertramp,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Aural Exciters,
Bang On A Can,
The United States of America,
the Slits,
Moebius,
Harry Pussy,
Tubeway Army,
Underground Resistance,
Minutemen,
Gang Gang Dance,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dennis Brown,
The Trojans,
Steve Hackett,
Minny Pops,
Scrapy,
Bobby Byrd,
Rapeman,
Lightning Bolt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Model 500,
Section 25,
Crispy Ambulance,
Visage,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Reagan Youth,
Negative Approach,
Ornette Coleman,
Todd Rundgren,
Unwound,
The Birthday Party,
Barbara Tucker,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Toni Rubio,
Juan Atkins,
the Human League,
Second Layer,
Bobbi Humphrey,
MDC,
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
Grandmaster Flash,
Letta Mbulu,
DNA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
John Cale,
Magazine,
Maleditus Sound,
Crooked Eye,
Scan 7,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sex Pistols,
The Red Krayola,
Electric Prunes,
Dawn Penn,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.