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 Netherlands and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nick Fraelich to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Andrew Hill,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Barrington Levy,
Lungfish,
Nik Kershaw,
Sällskapet,
The Real Kids,
Bush Tetras,
Crime,
Gang Green,
Malaria!,
Black Bananas,
Yazoo,
Curtis Mayfield,
DNA,
Carl Craig,
Sister Nancy,
Wally Richardson,
Tim Buckley,
Peter & Gordon,
The Grass Roots,
The Star Department,
Rufus Thomas,
Danielle Patucci,
Piero Umiliani,
Brick,
Gastr Del Sol,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wasted Youth,
The Sonics,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hoover,
Faraquet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Yellowson,
The Dirtbombs,
48th St. Collective,
Mandrill,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Amon Düül II,
Matthew Halsall,
the Swans,
Buzzcocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rotary Connection,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Symarip,
Eli Mardock,
The Monks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ohio Players,
Al Stewart,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sam Rivers,
Scion,
Organ,
Q65,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Motions,
Rites of Spring,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.