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 Barbados and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Hashim to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
The Five Americans,
A Certain Ratio,
10cc,
Ornette Coleman,
LL Cool J,
Scion,
Zapp,
Alison Limerick,
Sun Ra,
The Fall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Peter & Gordon,
The Martian,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Searchers,
Byron Stingily,
Nirvana,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sandy B,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fugazi,
Motorama,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Patti Smith,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Andrew Hill,
Rufus Thomas,
Ultra Naté,
Stereo Dub,
Newcleus,
Soul Sonic Force,
Alton Ellis,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dorothy Ashby,
In Retrospect,
Freddie Wadling,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Judy Mowatt,
FM Einheit,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cecil Taylor,
Eurythmics,
Parry Music,
Morten Harket,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sällskapet,
Bauhaus,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Michelle Simonal,
The Litter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stiv Bators,
Swans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Womack,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cowsills,
Schoolly D,
The Moody Blues,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.