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 Congo and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gong,
The Slits,
Altered Images,
Delta 5,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tears for Fears,
Angry Samoans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sun Ra,
Supertramp,
Swans,
Fatback Band,
Drexciya,
Vladislav Delay,
Lindisfarne,
Avey Tare,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tomorrow,
Theoretical Girls,
The Searchers,
The Smiths,
Zapp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ice-T,
Deepchord,
Marine Girls,
The Standells,
Heaven 17,
Spandau Ballet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eddi Front,
Flash Fearless,
Black Moon,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jeff Lynne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Danielle Patucci,
The Sound,
Youth Brigade,
The Toasters,
The Stooges,
the Human League,
Brothers Johnson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Cure,
Public Enemy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pylon,
Lightning Bolt,
A Certain Ratio,
New York Dolls,
Half Japanese,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
KRS-One,
Cymande,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
Au Pairs,
Brand Nubian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.