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 France and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Mad Mike,
Yazoo,
Eurythmics,
Vladislav Delay,
Boz Scaggs,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kerri Chandler,
Gichy Dan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Moon,
L. Decosne,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Modern Lovers,
Shuggie Otis,
Japan,
Los Fastidios,
Mars,
Quantec,
X-Ray Spex,
Outsiders,
Talk Talk,
Skarface,
The Offenders,
Mary Jane Girls,
Anakelly,
Radiohead,
The Birthday Party,
Hardrive,
Bootsy Collins,
Parry Music,
Sparks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bizarre Inc.,
Technova,
Hashim,
Godley & Creme,
10cc,
Ohio Players,
China Crisis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joey Negro,
Junior Murvin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Bluetip,
The Alarm Clocks,
Carl Craig,
Saccharine Trust,
DJ Style,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Walker Brothers,
Ornette Coleman,
Monolake,
The Detroit Cobras,
The American Breed,
the Swans,
Gregory Isaacs,
New Order,
Bill Near,
Can,
Tubeway Army,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.