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 Suriname and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Unwound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Vogues,
Barbara Tucker,
T. Rex,
Underground Resistance,
Oneida,
Cluster,
The Happenings,
Black Moon,
Easy Going,
Roxette,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gun Club,
Sällskapet,
Ossler,
X-Ray Spex,
the Germs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Arthur Verocai,
Essential Logic,
The Last Poets,
Malaria!,
The Stooges,
Curtis Mayfield,
Smog,
Second Layer,
Unwound,
Lightning Bolt,
Deakin,
The Blackbyrds,
Tim Buckley,
Lebanon Hanover,
Adolescents,
Blossom Toes,
Average White Band,
Von Mondo,
The Fall,
Chris Corsano,
Eddi Front,
Max Romeo,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The New Christs,
The Sound,
Jeff Mills,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Walker Brothers,
The Raincoats,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
K-Klass,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Popol Vuh,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Normal,
Duran Duran,
Pulsallama,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sugar Minott,
Alton Ellis,
The Music Machine,
Sister Nancy,
Pierre Henry,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.