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 Mauritania and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 David Axelrod to the dance 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Holt,
Bronski Beat,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Janne Schatter,
EPMD,
Hoover,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Toni Rubio,
Rotary Connection,
Lightning Bolt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Das Ding,
Sam Rivers,
Suicide,
Blake Baxter,
Icehouse,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
The Trojans,
Blossom Toes,
Deepchord,
Warsaw,
Zapp,
Accadde A,
Boz Scaggs,
The Barracudas,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tim Buckley,
Camberwell Now,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fear,
Camouflage,
Bob Dylan,
Organ,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Sonics,
The Smiths,
Pylon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dennis Brown,
Barrington Levy,
Intrusion,
Magazine,
Drexciya,
Pantytec,
The Blackbyrds,
Stockholm Monsters,
Simply Red,
Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
Eric Dolphy,
Aloha Tigers,
Thompson Twins,
the Bar-Kays,
Prince Buster,
Circle Jerks,
Scientists,
Cheater Slicks,
Soft Machine,
The Doors,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.