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 East Timor and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 The Beau Brummels to the rap 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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aaron Thompson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Public Enemy,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Red Krayola,
Siglo XX,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Groovy Waters,
The Litter,
Mars,
Eric Copeland,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sam Rivers,
Ornette Coleman,
In Retrospect,
Connie Case,
Alphaville,
The Martian,
Negative Approach,
Amon Düül,
Eurythmics,
Pierre Henry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dawn Penn,
The Durutti Column,
the Human League,
Animal Collective,
Crooked Eye,
Infiniti,
Basic Channel,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Happenings,
Rufus Thomas,
Outsiders,
The Dirtbombs,
UT,
Stetsasonic,
Crispy Ambulance,
Thompson Twins,
Surgeon,
The Electric Prunes,
The Stooges,
Laurel Aitken,
Wings,
Radio Birdman,
Reagan Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Junior Murvin,
Pagans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Whodini,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
MDC,
The Real Kids,
The Star Department,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Dead C,
Q65,
Isaac Hayes,
Angry Samoans,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.