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 Bhutan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Mo-Dettes to the disco 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare,
Accadde A,
Blossom Toes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Zapp,
Man Parrish,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grauzone,
Talk Talk,
Deepchord,
Eden Ahbez,
Rhythm & Sound,
Darondo,
Lungfish,
Yazoo,
Altered Images,
The Cramps,
Bobby Sherman,
Barry Ungar,
Parry Music,
The United States of America,
Crispy Ambulance,
Con Funk Shun,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Junior Murvin,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Starr,
The Electric Prunes,
Fad Gadget,
Delta 5,
The Skatalites,
Guru Guru,
The Invisible,
Television Personalities,
Gang of Four,
Ultimate Spinach,
Simply Red,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Country Teasers,
The Mummies,
Glambeats Corp.,
T.S.O.L.,
Bronski Beat,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Althea and Donna,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rotary Connection,
Marmalade,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fugazi,
Qualms,
Moebius,
Cecil Taylor,
Procol Harum,
Dawn Penn,
Reuben Wilson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.