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 Angola and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Joy Division to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
the Germs,
Minnie Riperton,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Doors,
David Bowie,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bluetip,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
Motorama,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nas,
X-101,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Rufus Thomas,
Mr. Review,
Minny Pops,
Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
Lower 48,
New Age Steppers,
Carl Craig,
The Knickerbockers,
Dead Boys,
Bronski Beat,
Alphaville,
Eddi Front,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soul II Soul,
Amon Düül,
Swell Maps,
The Dirtbombs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Moleskins,
Royal Trux,
Arab on Radar,
Josef K,
Yazoo,
Ultra Naté,
Moebius,
Unwound,
Stereo Dub,
The Mummies,
Television,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fugs,
The Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
Gang of Four,
Slave,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Evens,
Hasil Adkins,
The Wake,
Eden Ahbez,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.