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 Brazil and from Columbus.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar 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 The Dead C to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Joyce Sims,
Monks,
Buzzcocks,
The Last Poets,
Brick,
Idris Muhammad,
The Alarm Clocks,
Flipper,
Mandrill,
Pere Ubu,
Infiniti,
Little Man,
Susan Cadogan,
The Count Five,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pierre Henry,
Rakim,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kurtis Blow,
Unwound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Bob Dylan,
Bush Tetras,
Sun City Girls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Association,
Simply Red,
Sixth Finger,
Cymande,
The Standells,
Mission of Burma,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Gladiators,
Minny Pops,
Deakin,
The Index,
Junior Murvin,
Joe Smooth,
Warsaw,
Ultra Naté,
Niagra,
X-102,
Fugazi,
The Star Department,
KRS-One,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Grey Daturas,
The Motions,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cowsills,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cluster,
ABC,
Juan Atkins,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.