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 Marshall Islands and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 DJ Style to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
The Martian,
E-Dancer,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Black Dice,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Thompson Twins,
Television Personalities,
Massinfluence,
The Grass Roots,
Pere Ubu,
Stetsasonic,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joy Division,
Chrome,
Iggy Pop,
The Doors,
The Velvet Underground,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Average White Band,
Robert Hood,
Aloha Tigers,
The Index,
Anakelly,
Morten Harket,
Heaven 17,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Prince Buster,
48th St. Collective,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ornette Coleman,
Yazoo,
Avey Tare,
Eric Copeland,
The Knickerbockers,
The Blackbyrds,
Rod Modell,
Oneida,
D'Angelo,
Can,
Moss Icon,
Q65,
Deakin,
Gastr Del Sol,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Human League,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Byrd,
Fear,
Joensuu 1685,
Lyres,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Pus,
Sister Nancy,
PIL,
Joe Smooth,
Agent Orange,
Fatback Band,
the Slits,
Hashim,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.