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 Liberia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Real Kids to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Pantaleimon,
Aswad,
Lightning Bolt,
Laurel Aitken,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rapeman,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hashim,
Ice-T,
Camouflage,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Grass Roots,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
X-Ray Spex,
Bad Manners,
Chris Corsano,
Franke,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Sherman,
The Modern Lovers,
The Five Americans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Porter Ricks,
AZ,
Stetsasonic,
Susan Cadogan,
Avey Tare,
Archie Shepp,
Radio Birdman,
Bush Tetras,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mojo Men,
Qualms,
The Litter,
Main Source,
The Buckinghams,
Rosa Yemen,
The Pop Group,
Alice Coltrane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Inner City,
The Doors,
Sun City Girls,
Make Up,
Fugazi,
The Trojans,
Absolute Body Control,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Au Pairs,
Josef K,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dawn Penn,
Spoonie Gee,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
June of 44,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.