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 Moldova and from Cairo.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
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 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Rekid to the rap 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Eli Mardock,
Sonny Sharrock,
Chrome,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Procol Harum,
Spoonie Gee,
Little Man,
The Trojans,
Accadde A,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Cale,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Royal Trux,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Wolf Eyes,
Bad Manners,
Swell Maps,
Bang On A Can,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Standells,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Severed Heads,
Organ,
Patti Smith,
Cheater Slicks,
Barry Ungar,
Easy Going,
Absolute Body Control,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
ABC,
Duran Duran,
Freddie Wadling,
B.T. Express,
R.M.O.,
Clear Light,
Black Sheep,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Brothers Johnson,
Thompson Twins,
These Immortal Souls,
Janne Schatter,
Arcadia,
Mary Jane Girls,
Darondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Donald Byrd,
Judy Mowatt,
Eurythmics,
Drexciya,
Panda Bear,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Minutemen,
Gong,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Lydon,
Moebius,
Schoolly D,
Lightning Bolt,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.