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 Gambia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Knickerbockers to the jazz 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
X-Ray Spex,
The Martian,
Altered Images,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DJ Sneak,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Donald Byrd,
ABBA,
Popol Vuh,
The Slits,
The Fire Engines,
Black Pus,
The Fortunes,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Cowsills,
Royal Trux,
Johnny Osbourne,
UT,
The Selecter,
Quadrant,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultra Naté,
Technova,
John Cale,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Gladiators,
The Fuzztones,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arab on Radar,
Ken Boothe,
Hashim,
Spoonie Gee,
Au Pairs,
Jacob Miller,
Kenny Larkin,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Style,
Brand Nubian,
The Golliwogs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eve St. Jones,
Cecil Taylor,
David Axelrod,
The Red Krayola,
Ponytail,
Con Funk Shun,
Rosa Yemen,
The American Breed,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Agent Orange,
MC5,
Joe Smooth,
Colin Newman,
The Five Americans,
The Birthday Party,
Junior Murvin,
Siglo XX,
Sister Nancy,
Mars,
PIL,
Anakelly,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.