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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Interpol to the crunk 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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Barrington Levy,
The Slackers,
Underground Resistance,
Gichy Dan,
The Electric Prunes,
Bang On A Can,
This Heat,
Mo-Dettes,
Bootsy Collins,
Eve St. Jones,
Dark Day,
Yazoo,
Index,
Ken Boothe,
Sonic Youth,
Swans,
Sight & Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Maurizio,
Donald Byrd,
Sex Pistols,
Dave Gahan,
Arab on Radar,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bill Near,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Yaz,
Animal Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joy Division,
Organ,
Alton Ellis,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Young Rascals,
Bad Manners,
Cal Tjader,
Sister Nancy,
Amazonics,
Anthony Braxton,
F. McDonald,
Black Moon,
Dead Boys,
Livin' Joy,
Davy DMX,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Red Krayola,
Derrick May,
Sun Ra,
AZ,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Althea and Donna,
The Doobie Brothers,
Metal Thangz,
Aaron Thompson,
Charles Mingus,
Nas,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Cale,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.