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 Grenada and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin 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 8 Eyed Spy to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Angels of Light,
Scratch Acid,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stereo Dub,
Underground Resistance,
Adolescents,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minor Threat,
Outsiders,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Bananas,
Desert Stars,
Trumans Water,
Grey Daturas,
Wire,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Reuben Wilson,
The Last Poets,
Barrington Levy,
Scion,
Saccharine Trust,
Scientists,
Wings,
Fort Wilson Riot,
David Bowie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Al Stewart,
Blake Baxter,
Sparks,
Ten City,
Alice Coltrane,
Mo-Dettes,
Bad Manners,
Jawbox,
Royal Trux,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Yusef Lateef,
The Golliwogs,
Duran Duran,
Dave Gahan,
Country Teasers,
Arcadia,
Crooked Eye,
the Slits,
Boredoms,
The Blues Magoos,
Johnny Clarke,
The Evens,
Ice-T,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott Heron,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Green,
Man Parrish,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.