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 Cuba and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Newcleus to the rap 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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Animal Collective,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Juan Atkins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crooked Eye,
Technova,
Amon Düül II,
Aloha Tigers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scientists,
Colin Newman,
Crash Course in Science,
Ossler,
Alice Coltrane,
Funky Four + One,
Dead Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Metal Thangz,
Delta 5,
The Cowsills,
Goldenarms,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobby Womack,
Eric Dolphy,
The Young Rascals,
Nico,
The Gladiators,
The Monks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Negative Approach,
Silicon Teens,
Maurizio,
Roxy Music,
Cal Tjader,
The Names,
the Association,
Glambeats Corp.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
MDC,
The J.B.'s,
Aural Exciters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bad Manners,
Faraquet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gichy Dan,
Eurythmics,
Can,
Fluxion,
Black Pus,
The Zeros,
Roxette,
Icehouse,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bobby Sherman,
Saccharine Trust,
Kevin Saunderson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Los Fastidios,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.