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 Burkina and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the dance 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Crispian St. Peters,
Arthur Verocai,
Reagan Youth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Big Daddy Kane,
La Düsseldorf,
Buzzcocks,
Tom Boy,
Anthony Braxton,
Pierre Henry,
Delta 5,
Excepter,
Mission of Burma,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Drexciya,
the Association,
Sandy B,
June of 44,
The Count Five,
Banda Bassotti,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Germs,
Matthew Bourne,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eden Ahbez,
Iggy Pop,
Pole,
The Dirtbombs,
New York Dolls,
The Black Dice,
Dead Boys,
Terry Callier,
Deakin,
Brothers Johnson,
Piero Umiliani,
Barbara Tucker,
Khruangbin,
Fat Boys,
8 Eyed Spy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
June Days,
Joe Smooth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neu!,
The Remains,
The Residents,
Archie Shepp,
Icehouse,
Andrew Hill,
Faraquet,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bang On A Can,
Eli Mardock,
Scientists,
Fluxion,
Intrusion,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mantronix,
The Sound,
The Dead C,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.