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 Marshall Islands and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Rotary Connection 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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Byrd,
Lou Christie,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cecil Taylor,
Brand Nubian,
Drexciya,
Kenny Larkin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Au Pairs,
Young Marble Giants,
The Slits,
Minutemen,
Danielle Patucci,
Section 25,
Mission of Burma,
The Dirtbombs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
John Lydon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bill Wells,
Severed Heads,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash,
Dark Day,
Joy Division,
Audionom,
Camouflage,
the Normal,
Nick Fraelich,
Hashim,
AZ,
Howard Jones,
Public Image Ltd.,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
Stetsasonic,
Agent Orange,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Peter and Kerry,
Q65,
Duran Duran,
Gang of Four,
Babytalk,
Harry Pussy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cameo,
The Residents,
Ronan,
The Fuzztones,
Grauzone,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suburban Knight,
Adolescents,
Ultra Naté,
The Mummies,
Ossler,
Flipper,
Sam Rivers,
Janne Schatter,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.