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 Seychelles and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Joe Smooth to the rap 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Audionom record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Happenings,
The Alarm Clocks,
Skriet,
The Smoke,
Scion,
The Real Kids,
Newcleus,
Pere Ubu,
X-101,
E-Dancer,
Oneida,
Mr. Review,
The Black Dice,
Ultra Naté,
Cheater Slicks,
Cecil Taylor,
Judy Mowatt,
Rosa Yemen,
The Detroit Cobras,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Connie Case,
Pole,
Tropical Tobacco,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Trojans,
the Germs,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Zeros,
Prince Buster,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Basic Channel,
The Fire Engines,
The American Breed,
Nils Olav,
Pet Shop Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fugazi,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gabor Szabo,
Amazonics,
Lungfish,
Josef K,
Warren Ellis,
Gichy Dan,
The Residents,
Liliput,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Index,
Malaria!,
Rekid,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Blake Baxter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.