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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 T. Rex to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deepchord,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cure,
Drexciya,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Flag,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fear,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The American Breed,
Tres Demented,
The Dirtbombs,
Clear Light,
Bill Wells,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Boredoms,
Animal Collective,
The Offenders,
Ice-T,
Duran Duran,
Lou Reed,
Nico,
Crispy Ambulance,
Morten Harket,
Intrusion,
Kurtis Blow,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Busters,
Harry Pussy,
The Zeros,
Television,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nirvana,
The Kinks,
Lungfish,
The Durutti Column,
T.S.O.L.,
Terry Callier,
Eli Mardock,
The Neon Judgement,
Harmonia,
Curtis Mayfield,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dark Day,
Ken Boothe,
The Associates,
Bootsy Collins,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fluxion,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ponytail,
The Smoke,
Stetsasonic,
Sandy B,
In Retrospect,
Slave,
The Skatalites,
Chris & Cosey,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.