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 Suriname and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 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 Donny Hathaway to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rufus Thomas,
Shoche,
E-Dancer,
The Mummies,
The Barracudas,
Bill Wells,
Qualms,
The Young Rascals,
Anthony Braxton,
Sam Rivers,
The Gun Club,
Model 500,
Tres Demented,
Dennis Brown,
Wally Richardson,
Bush Tetras,
Ponytail,
Prince Buster,
Sugar Minott,
Angry Samoans,
Organ,
David Bowie,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Sherman,
Niagra,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soul II Soul,
Mandrill,
The Offenders,
The Alarm Clocks,
Junior Murvin,
Radiohead,
10cc,
Mad Mike,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Chris & Cosey,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Amon Düül,
The Dirtbombs,
Monolake,
Bootsy Collins,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Count Five,
These Immortal Souls,
CMW,
The Selecter,
Intrusion,
Vladislav Delay,
Aswad,
World's Most,
Saccharine Trust,
Lakeside,
Lee Hazlewood,
EPMD,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.