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 Afghanistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Television Personalities to the grunge 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Peter & Gordon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen 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 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Patti Smith,
The Mummies,
Joe Finger,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Arthur Verocai,
James White and The Blacks,
DJ Style,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rites of Spring,
Ronnie Foster,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang Green,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jawbox,
Flipper,
Sam Rivers,
Barry Ungar,
Accadde A,
Theoretical Girls,
The Tremeloes,
The New Christs,
Howard Jones,
Shuggie Otis,
Roxy Music,
Joe Smooth,
Pantytec,
The Misunderstood,
Anthony Braxton,
Organ,
The Martian,
Tim Buckley,
Erykah Badu,
Bobby Sherman,
The Wake,
Wings,
Black Pus,
Sällskapet,
John Cale,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Reuben Wilson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tears for Fears,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Seeds,
Donald Byrd,
Duran Duran,
The Five Americans,
Easy Going,
Sun Ra,
Mark Hollis,
DJ Sneak,
Pylon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rod Modell,
The Divine Comedy,
Roy Ayers,
Supertramp,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.