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 Mauritania and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Last Poets to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Crooked Eye,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pierre Henry,
The Trojans,
Janne Schatter,
The Beau Brummels,
Parry Music,
Anthony Braxton,
June of 44,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bootsy Collins,
DJ Sneak,
Robert Görl,
John Cale,
The Raincoats,
Sparks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sonics,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Negative Approach,
Lakeside,
Sugar Minott,
Joe Smooth,
The Toasters,
Lalann,
Alton Ellis,
Japan,
Idris Muhammad,
Minutemen,
Altered Images,
Bang On A Can,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sexual Harrassment,
Maleditus Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joey Negro,
Erasure,
Masters at Work,
Goldenarms,
Moss Icon,
Gregory Isaacs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fela Kuti,
Make Up,
Ornette Coleman,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wolf Eyes,
Absolute Body Control,
the Germs,
DNA,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sarah Menescal,
Nils Olav,
Jawbox,
PIL,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.