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 Malaysia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pussy Galore to the dance 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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiopuhelimet,
The New Christs,
Eli Mardock,
The Blackbyrds,
DJ Style,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Smoke,
Fatback Band,
Byron Stingily,
Thompson Twins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
L. Decosne,
John Holt,
Ten City,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Peter & Gordon,
Hasil Adkins,
Pere Ubu,
Joy Division,
The Birthday Party,
Interpol,
Wolf Eyes,
Panda Bear,
Los Fastidios,
ABBA,
Grey Daturas,
New Age Steppers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Au Pairs,
Pagans,
Ornette Coleman,
Jacques Brel,
The Moleskins,
Aswad,
Matthew Halsall,
Severed Heads,
Cecil Taylor,
Rhythm & Sound,
Technova,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Durutti Column,
the Bar-Kays,
Don Cherry,
Archie Shepp,
Carl Craig,
La Düsseldorf,
The Victims,
The Saints,
Dorothy Ashby,
B.T. Express,
The Cowsills,
Darondo,
Johnny Clarke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Dawn Penn,
Scrapy,
Soft Machine,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.