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 Togo and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the grime 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Absolute Body Control,
Lakeside,
Harry Pussy,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang Starr,
Bronski Beat,
Nico,
JFA,
Mandrill,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Sherman,
Robert Hood,
Rites of Spring,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Bananas,
Soft Machine,
The Searchers,
Ice-T,
Pharoah Sanders,
KRS-One,
Glambeats Corp.,
Yaz,
MC5,
Wasted Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Junior Murvin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eddi Front,
Ultra Naté,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kevin Saunderson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Qualms,
The Red Krayola,
Monks,
The Raincoats,
Gabor Szabo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marc Almond,
Cameo,
Johnny Clarke,
Hoover,
Arcadia,
Swell Maps,
Minor Threat,
Eric Copeland,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Index,
Animal Collective,
Terry Callier,
Tubeway Army,
Terrestrial Tones,
Johnny Osbourne,
FM Einheit,
The Durutti Column,
Ken Boothe,
Saccharine Trust,
Y Pants,
Rakim,
X-102,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.