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 Cambodia and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 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 David Bowie to the punk 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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Pere Ubu,
The United States of America,
Swans,
Leonard Cohen,
Faust,
The Divine Comedy,
Theoretical Girls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Davy DMX,
The Detroit Cobras,
Crash Course in Science,
David Bowie,
In Retrospect,
Index,
Mo-Dettes,
Dave Gahan,
Animal Collective,
Wire,
Gong,
The Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fatback Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Carl Craig,
Brand Nubian,
Barrington Levy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Second Layer,
David McCallum,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Derrick Morgan,
Minnie Riperton,
ABBA,
Crispy Ambulance,
Juan Atkins,
Pussy Galore,
Ultra Naté,
Byron Stingily,
Marvin Gaye,
Girls At Our Best!,
Shoche,
Erykah Badu,
Janne Schatter,
The Electric Prunes,
Alton Ellis,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Residents,
Blake Baxter,
Kurtis Blow,
Al Stewart,
New Age Steppers,
Surgeon,
Henry Cow,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wings,
Sun Ra,
Peter and Kerry,
Moby Grape,
Schoolly D,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.