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 Belize and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Girls At Our Best! to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Davy DMX,
The Birthday Party,
Buzzcocks,
L. Decosne,
Severed Heads,
The United States of America,
Basic Channel,
Charles Mingus,
Bluetip,
Sällskapet,
Barbara Tucker,
8 Eyed Spy,
Y Pants,
Reagan Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
EPMD,
Morten Harket,
Leonard Cohen,
Eric Copeland,
Eric Dolphy,
Stereo Dub,
Masters at Work,
Deepchord,
The Dead C,
Goldenarms,
Flamin' Groovies,
Maurizio,
Hoover,
Dave Gahan,
Nik Kershaw,
Urselle,
Parry Music,
Cecil Taylor,
Sister Nancy,
Fela Kuti,
Inner City,
Minor Threat,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sixth Finger,
The Happenings,
Ornette Coleman,
X-102,
The Dirtbombs,
Fluxion,
Mad Mike,
Rotary Connection,
Joe Finger,
Reuben Wilson,
Throbbing Gristle,
James White and The Blacks,
Yazoo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Sherman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arab on Radar,
The Angels of Light,
Jacob Miller,
Tom Boy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Erykah Badu,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.