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 Mauritania and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 Scott Walker 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
The Monks,
The Kinks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rufus Thomas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Moby Grape,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mantronix,
Monolake,
Little Man,
The Cramps,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Divine Comedy,
Bobby Sherman,
Gichy Dan,
The Mojo Men,
The Young Rascals,
Ice-T,
Silicon Teens,
Thee Headcoats,
Niagra,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Can,
Gang of Four,
Ossler,
Arcadia,
Robert Wyatt,
Brick,
Soulsonic Force,
Adolescents,
Main Source,
Goldenarms,
Inner City,
The Star Department,
L. Decosne,
Al Stewart,
The Count Five,
David Axelrod,
KRS-One,
Sound Behaviour,
Crispy Ambulance,
Reagan Youth,
Skarface,
the Slits,
The Golliwogs,
Radio Birdman,
Duran Duran,
Minor Threat,
ABBA,
Franke,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ornette Coleman,
Joyce Sims,
EPMD,
Severed Heads,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Minutemen,
Jeff Mills,
Blossom Toes,
Smog,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dennis Brown,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.