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 Slovenia and from Toronto.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
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 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Chris & Cosey to the funk 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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Wake,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harry Pussy,
Ronnie Foster,
Siglo XX,
Derrick May,
Glenn Branca,
Roger Hodgson,
Hashim,
Fifty Foot Hose,
ABBA,
Tears for Fears,
Jawbox,
Lyres,
Cymande,
The Leaves,
The Velvet Underground,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Birthday Party,
Mo-Dettes,
The Beau Brummels,
The Barracudas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Country Teasers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Subhumans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barbara Tucker,
Wasted Youth,
Aswad,
Shuggie Otis,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Popol Vuh,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nirvana,
Television Personalities,
June of 44,
Crispy Ambulance,
Adolescents,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric Copeland,
B.T. Express,
Dorothy Ashby,
Desert Stars,
Los Fastidios,
The Star Department,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Slits,
Fugazi,
Kenny Larkin,
Outsiders,
Brand Nubian,
MDC,
The Trojans,
The Invisible,
Absolute Body Control,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.