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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 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 Nirvana to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Certain Ratio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Litter,
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
B.T. Express,
Jerry's Kids,
Ohio Players,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eurythmics,
Television Personalities,
The Birthday Party,
Cheater Slicks,
the Soft Cell,
Model 500,
The Fuzztones,
Aswad,
The Standells,
Youth Brigade,
John Lydon,
T.S.O.L.,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tom Boy,
The Fortunes,
Japan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Roxy Music,
World's Most,
Nik Kershaw,
Nick Fraelich,
Minny Pops,
Oblivians,
Amazonics,
Frankie Knuckles,
Neil Young,
The Trojans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Bananas,
Scion,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brand Nubian,
Rosa Yemen,
Spandau Ballet,
Fela Kuti,
Babytalk,
The Grass Roots,
Jeff Lynne,
Spoonie Gee,
Sugar Minott,
Robert Görl,
Scrapy,
Metal Thangz,
Loose Ends,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Kinks,
Marmalade,
Max Romeo,
K-Klass,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.