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 Latvia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Alton Ellis to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Nas,
Vladislav Delay,
Mission of Burma,
DJ Style,
FM Einheit,
Con Funk Shun,
Reagan Youth,
Marmalade,
Urselle,
The Buckinghams,
Anthony Braxton,
Bobby Womack,
Joy Division,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Amon Düül,
Bootsy Collins,
Laurel Aitken,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Knickerbockers,
The Misunderstood,
Idris Muhammad,
PIL,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eli Mardock,
Qualms,
Inner City,
Barry Ungar,
Soft Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Howard Jones,
Fugazi,
Wolf Eyes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
R.M.O.,
The Mojo Men,
Lungfish,
Black Flag,
Donald Byrd,
Rufus Thomas,
Metal Thangz,
Moebius,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Big Daddy Kane,
The Barracudas,
The Searchers,
Faraquet,
Second Layer,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Martian,
The Young Rascals,
The Golliwogs,
Black Pus,
Terry Callier,
Joe Smooth,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.