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 Algeria and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin 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 Eric Copeland to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Cheater Slicks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Average White Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ornette Coleman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Minnie Riperton,
Sugar Minott,
Thee Headcoats,
The Golliwogs,
Howard Jones,
Brand Nubian,
Make Up,
Idris Muhammad,
Byron Stingily,
The Buckinghams,
the Association,
Traffic Nightmare,
Los Fastidios,
Magma,
Cecil Taylor,
Derrick May,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rosa Yemen,
Chrome,
Con Funk Shun,
Neu!,
The Smoke,
PIL,
Banda Bassotti,
Schoolly D,
Young Marble Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Letta Mbulu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Henry Cow,
Outsiders,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Birthday Party,
Scientists,
June of 44,
The Residents,
Masters at Work,
Guru Guru,
The Fortunes,
These Immortal Souls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pylon,
Faraquet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Malaria!,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
This Heat,
Duran Duran,
Freddie Wadling,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.