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 Guinea-Bissau and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Barclay James Harvest to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Alton Ellis,
Aswad,
The Birthday Party,
Letta Mbulu,
Index,
The Offenders,
Erykah Badu,
Shoche,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New York Dolls,
Minutemen,
Electric Prunes,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Womack,
Gabor Szabo,
48th St. Collective,
Radiopuhelimet,
Black Moon,
the Slits,
The Modern Lovers,
Nils Olav,
The Beau Brummels,
DNA,
Arab on Radar,
Eden Ahbez,
Qualms,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Absolute Body Control,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Magma,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Yazoo,
The Mojo Men,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Gun Club,
The Red Krayola,
Gastr Del Sol,
Malaria!,
Stetsasonic,
Roy Ayers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fatback Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Negative Approach,
Dorothy Ashby,
Graham Central Station,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fugs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Bananas,
the Normal,
Surgeon,
Sound Behaviour,
Davy DMX,
Kevin Saunderson,
Zapp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.