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 Tunisia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Five Americans to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Roxette,
Delta 5,
Pagans,
Groovy Waters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Johnny Clarke,
The New Christs,
The Neon Judgement,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
The Seeds,
Mars,
Althea and Donna,
Colin Newman,
Infiniti,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Popol Vuh,
Lalo Schifrin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hoover,
Eyeless In Gaza,
E-Dancer,
Donny Hathaway,
Deepchord,
The Stooges,
Danielle Patucci,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultra Naté,
Can,
Sound Behaviour,
Radio Birdman,
Gong,
Letta Mbulu,
Eric Dolphy,
The Techniques,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Last Poets,
Franke,
X-102,
The Music Machine,
Magazine,
Rotary Connection,
Joe Finger,
Aswad,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
A Certain Ratio,
Peter and Kerry,
Moby Grape,
Buzzcocks,
Juan Atkins,
The Cure,
Eden Ahbez,
Ludus,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Blake Baxter,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.