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 Algeria and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 Taipei and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Arthur Verocai to the funk 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Das Ding,
Porter Ricks,
The American Breed,
This Heat,
CMW,
Malaria!,
Charles Mingus,
John Coltrane,
Max Romeo,
Lightning Bolt,
DNA,
Graham Central Station,
Groovy Waters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sight & Sound,
R.M.O.,
the Swans,
Ice-T,
Harry Pussy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mr. Review,
New Age Steppers,
Soft Machine,
The Pop Group,
Minny Pops,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tom Boy,
Cal Tjader,
Girls At Our Best!,
Liliput,
Freddie Wadling,
Ultravox,
Bill Wells,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Monolake,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Skarface,
Pussy Galore,
Crime,
Swans,
LL Cool J,
The Remains,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Alarm Clocks,
a-ha,
The Neon Judgement,
Isaac Hayes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Pus,
Faust,
Cymande,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Divine Comedy,
Eric Dolphy,
Tears for Fears,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson, Roger Hodgson.
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.