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 Cape Verde and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Aural Exciters to the rap 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Bill Wells,
Junior Murvin,
10cc,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hot Snakes,
Blossom Toes,
One Last Wish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tom Boy,
Mark Hollis,
Mr. Review,
David McCallum,
The Moleskins,
Lou Christie,
Theoretical Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Pop Group,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heaven 17,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sixth Finger,
Fluxion,
Nils Olav,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Maleditus Sound,
Index,
kango's stein massive,
Spoonie Gee,
Desert Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Jawbox,
The Doors,
Alphaville,
Ornette Coleman,
the Sonics,
Malaria!,
Henry Cow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Real Kids,
The Stooges,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slackers,
Flipper,
Make Up,
John Cale,
Terry Callier,
Jerry Gold Smith,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Gories,
Sällskapet,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cramps,
Albert Ayler,
Reuben Wilson,
Ken Boothe,
Quadrant,
The Cowsills,
Con Funk Shun,
The Martian,
The Knickerbockers,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.