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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Porter Ricks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Nas,
Amazonics,
Agitation Free,
The Electric Prunes,
DJ Style,
Bootsy Collins,
La Düsseldorf,
Accadde A,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eric Copeland,
Bauhaus,
X-Ray Spex,
Wally Richardson,
Erasure,
Man Eating Sloth,
Moebius,
The Monks,
Drexciya,
X-102,
Public Image Ltd.,
Monks,
Mo-Dettes,
the Sonics,
The Smoke,
Liliput,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jacob Miller,
June Days,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Birthday Party,
Inner City,
Groovy Waters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fall,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ohio Players,
Jacques Brel,
Arcadia,
Rekid,
Icehouse,
Pulsallama,
Porter Ricks,
Anakelly,
Little Man,
The Selecter,
H. Thieme,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Zeros,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Henry Cow,
The Gories,
Ossler,
B.T. Express,
World's Most,
Funky Four + One,
Mad Mike,
Bob Dylan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Banda Bassotti,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.