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 Jordan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bizarre Inc. to the rap 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
The Monks,
Tubeway Army,
Black Moon,
Stereo Dub,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Idris Muhammad,
Fear,
the Fania All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Whodini,
Magazine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Litter,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barry Ungar,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Red Krayola,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Liliput,
Eden Ahbez,
Alice Coltrane,
Oneida,
Lou Christie,
Gong,
Brand Nubian,
the Slits,
Zapp,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Sonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ludus,
Audionom,
Young Marble Giants,
Sonny Sharrock,
Newcleus,
Inner City,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Blackbyrds,
Darondo,
CMW,
X-Ray Spex,
The Happenings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Finger,
Au Pairs,
the Germs,
The Fortunes,
Erykah Badu,
The Gladiators,
The Zeros,
The Sound,
The Barracudas,
The Standells,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
Gil Scott Heron,
Smog,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.