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 Togo and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 EPMD to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skarface,
Boredoms,
Janne Schatter,
The Slits,
Archie Shepp,
KRS-One,
Marmalade,
Masters at Work,
Stetsasonic,
Rekid,
Chrome,
Donald Byrd,
The Techniques,
Don Cherry,
Funky Four + One,
Fela Kuti,
The Angels of Light,
Spoonie Gee,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scrapy,
Suicide,
Black Sheep,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Last Poets,
The Seeds,
Stiv Bators,
Q and Not U,
Audionom,
Unrelated Segments,
Saccharine Trust,
Sällskapet,
the Swans,
Cameo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Nick Fraelich,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pagans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gap Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Flag,
Kerri Chandler,
The Neon Judgement,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Severed Heads,
Kool Moe Dee,
Loose Ends,
Minny Pops,
Deadbeat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lower 48,
Bill Wells,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hoover,
Cecil Taylor,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.