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 Angola and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Make Up to the crunk 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
CMW,
Barry Ungar,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pulsallama,
Marmalade,
Kaleidoscope,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Kinks,
Spandau Ballet,
Chris Corsano,
John Cale,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thompson Twins,
Sun Ra,
Scratch Acid,
Lower 48,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cybotron,
Junior Murvin,
Marine Girls,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Slits,
Jerry's Kids,
The Star Department,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gang Green,
The Black Dice,
The Smiths,
Glenn Branca,
Marc Almond,
EPMD,
Colin Newman,
The Music Machine,
Yaz,
Morten Harket,
Wally Richardson,
The Selecter,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
LL Cool J,
Make Up,
Alphaville,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Camberwell Now,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Pretty Things,
The Cure,
The Gun Club,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mr. Review,
Lee Hazlewood,
Anakelly,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fear,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.