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 Bahamas and from New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 The Angels of Light to the dance 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Big Daddy Kane,
The Durutti Column,
Stereo Dub,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ultra Naté,
The Detroit Cobras,
Royal Trux,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cameo,
Rod Modell,
Youth Brigade,
Bill Wells,
Malaria!,
The Residents,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Motorama,
Drexciya,
Eurythmics,
Sandy B,
Boredoms,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
cv313,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Chris & Cosey,
Jeff Mills,
Outsiders,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Sheep,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Golliwogs,
Peter and Kerry,
Oblivians,
Vladislav Delay,
Wally Richardson,
Jandek,
FM Einheit,
Pylon,
Parry Music,
The Victims,
Aswad,
Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Gang Starr,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hasil Adkins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dark Day,
Flipper,
Harpers Bizarre,
Slave,
Audionom,
The Cramps,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists,
Supertramp,
Anthony Braxton,
Tubeway Army,
Nirvana,
Susan Cadogan,
The Names,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.