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 Lebanon and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Selecter to the rock 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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Leaves,
Bobby Womack,
Crime,
Leonard Cohen,
Jerry Gold Smith,
World's Most,
Big Daddy Kane,
Davy DMX,
The Dirtbombs,
Sandy B,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nas,
Hoover,
The Knickerbockers,
JFA,
Donald Byrd,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Gories,
Marmalade,
Brick,
Babytalk,
Scott Walker,
Outsiders,
Depeche Mode,
The Red Krayola,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Pus,
R.M.O.,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Blues Magoos,
Porter Ricks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marc Almond,
Camouflage,
Dave Gahan,
Sugar Minott,
Soft Cell,
Man Parrish,
James White and The Blacks,
Saccharine Trust,
Wasted Youth,
Lungfish,
X-102,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bill Near,
Chrome,
CMW,
Essential Logic,
Amon Düül,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sixth Finger,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Hasil Adkins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
U.S. Maple,
Grauzone,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.