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 Bangladesh and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Residents 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
The Fire Engines,
The United States of America,
The Moleskins,
The Skatalites,
Cal Tjader,
Donald Byrd,
The Mummies,
Bill Wells,
Ultimate Spinach,
Zapp,
Barrington Levy,
Sandy B,
Tomorrow,
Cymande,
Delon & Dalcan,
Andrew Hill,
Yusef Lateef,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deakin,
Joensuu 1685,
Suicide,
Icehouse,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Livin' Joy,
Barry Ungar,
Todd Terry,
Underground Resistance,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
L. Decosne,
Television,
Aswad,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dennis Brown,
The Vogues,
Henry Cow,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scrapy,
Derrick May,
The Residents,
The Saints,
Oblivians,
Average White Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
New York Dolls,
Bad Manners,
Amon Düül,
This Heat,
The Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Laurel Aitken,
Masters at Work,
Altered Images,
Ultra Naté,
The Martian,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Public Enemy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Charles Mingus,
Das Ding,
Boogie Down Productions,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.