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 Guatemala and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the funk 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Bronski Beat,
Blake Baxter,
Accadde A,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Remains,
KRS-One,
Wings,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scott Walker,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Monochrome Set,
Prince Buster,
The Last Poets,
Sixth Finger,
DJ Style,
10cc,
David McCallum,
June of 44,
MC5,
Suicide,
The Dirtbombs,
The Index,
Joe Smooth,
X-101,
The Gap Band,
Metal Thangz,
Sam Rivers,
Idris Muhammad,
Minny Pops,
Bill Near,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Electric Prunes,
The Mummies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Names,
Nirvana,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Infiniti,
Sonic Youth,
Rites of Spring,
Joe Finger,
LL Cool J,
Pantaleimon,
The Fugs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fat Boys,
Althea and Donna,
Gerry Rafferty,
Derrick May,
John Foxx,
Dual Sessions,
Toni Rubio,
Audionom,
Kaleidoscope,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Standells,
Chris Corsano,
Eve St. Jones,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.