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 Nauru and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Görl 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Monks,
Lakeside,
The Cramps,
Intrusion,
Public Image Ltd.,
Siglo XX,
Nas,
Eve St. Jones,
Henry Cow,
Neu!,
Mad Mike,
Graham Central Station,
Grauzone,
Nation of Ulysses,
Trumans Water,
Moebius,
Lungfish,
The Durutti Column,
David Bowie,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crooked Eye,
Little Man,
Gabor Szabo,
Fluxion,
Eddi Front,
The Raincoats,
Kaleidoscope,
The Busters,
Yaz,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eric Dolphy,
Inner City,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Franke,
Harmonia,
Pagans,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Coltrane,
The Human League,
the Fania All-Stars,
Albert Ayler,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shuggie Otis,
James White and The Blacks,
Severed Heads,
Harry Pussy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Guru Guru,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Human League,
The Walker Brothers,
Nick Fraelich,
Idris Muhammad,
Crispian St. Peters,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fugs,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.