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 Sudan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Stetsasonic to the crunk 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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Letta Mbulu,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Cowsills,
Iggy Pop,
Roy Ayers,
Andrew Hill,
Faust,
Subhumans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Echospace,
Icehouse,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sandy B,
Sexual Harrassment,
Morten Harket,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Buckinghams,
Ornette Coleman,
Gerry Rafferty,
CMW,
Index,
Eddi Front,
Marmalade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Residents,
Mr. Review,
The Searchers,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Amon Düül,
Janne Schatter,
The Tremeloes,
Mad Mike,
Ludus,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ossler,
Pharoah Sanders,
Charles Mingus,
Sugar Minott,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Busters,
Popol Vuh,
Scion,
Thee Headcoats,
Lyres,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moody Blues,
John Foxx,
Terry Callier,
Hoover,
The Fire Engines,
The Moleskins,
Howard Jones,
Lindisfarne,
The Smiths,
The Fugs,
Scan 7,
Joensuu 1685,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.