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 Niger and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Gang Green to the grime 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mission of Burma,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Heaven 17,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra,
Monolake,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roxette,
Soft Machine,
Half Japanese,
The United States of America,
Ken Boothe,
ABC,
The Fugs,
The Fuzztones,
Clear Light,
The Techniques,
The Five Americans,
Lakeside,
Crispy Ambulance,
Erykah Badu,
Black Flag,
Derrick May,
The Cowsills,
Tomorrow,
Icehouse,
Rhythm & Sound,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Remains,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Sheep,
Colin Newman,
The Buckinghams,
Aloha Tigers,
Graham Central Station,
Wasted Youth,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sugar Minott,
Althea and Donna,
Funkadelic,
Magazine,
Minnie Riperton,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gichy Dan,
Outsiders,
John Lydon,
Popol Vuh,
the Fania All-Stars,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tom Boy,
Rosa Yemen,
Yazoo,
Gil Scott Heron,
Niagra,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.