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 Bulgaria and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Boogie Down Productions to the punk 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scrapy,
Liliput,
Boredoms,
Sugar Minott,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Alice Coltrane,
Joy Division,
Section 25,
Ice-T,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Terry Callier,
Surgeon,
Donald Byrd,
Sandy B,
Cymande,
Qualms,
Royal Trux,
Kayak,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Godley & Creme,
Anakelly,
Todd Terry,
Mission of Burma,
The Vogues,
Sex Pistols,
The Grass Roots,
John Coltrane,
cv313,
Arcadia,
Heaven 17,
The Gun Club,
Scion,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bauhaus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Star Department,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stereo Dub,
Goldenarms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rapeman,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Offenders,
Andrew Hill,
Animal Collective,
Rites of Spring,
Niagra,
LL Cool J,
Cal Tjader,
Letta Mbulu,
The Blackbyrds,
DJ Style,
Thompson Twins,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Pop Group,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mars,
Eurythmics,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.