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 Lesotho and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Offenders to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Slits,
The Flesh Eaters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Vainqueur,
L. Decosne,
Ultimate Spinach,
Los Fastidios,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Babytalk,
Chris Corsano,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sarah Menescal,
Yaz,
Cal Tjader,
The Gladiators,
The Tremeloes,
The Pop Group,
Joe Finger,
Neil Young,
Kas Product,
Zero Boys,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bill Wells,
Magma,
The Fall,
Goldenarms,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Godley & Creme,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Misunderstood,
Severed Heads,
Lower 48,
Ken Boothe,
Howard Jones,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Skaos,
Rotary Connection,
Half Japanese,
AZ,
UT,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fortunes,
The Residents,
Main Source,
Janne Schatter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jeff Lynne,
Lindisfarne,
U.S. Maple,
Fela Kuti,
The Cure,
New Order,
Brand Nubian,
Interpol,
The Mummies,
Whodini,
Scott Walker,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.