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 Korea South and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Eddi Front,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Barrington Levy,
Marc Almond,
James White and The Blacks,
Brand Nubian,
Mandrill,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Silicon Teens,
Ultra Naté,
Public Enemy,
the Slits,
The Mojo Men,
Maurizio,
Metal Thangz,
Chris & Cosey,
Quadrant,
The Cramps,
Boogie Down Productions,
Don Cherry,
The Busters,
Neil Young,
Delta 5,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Technova,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Quando Quango,
Fatback Band,
Faraquet,
The Slits,
Crash Course in Science,
Ponytail,
8 Eyed Spy,
New Order,
Mission of Burma,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tim Buckley,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Surgeon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Can,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Holt,
Dead Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monolake,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Aswad,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pantaleimon,
L. Decosne,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cowsills,
Theoretical Girls,
Lakeside,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Outsiders,
The Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.