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 Slovakia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Malaria! to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Mars,
Bobby Sherman,
Model 500,
Fatback Band,
Sugar Minott,
Can,
Man Parrish,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
One Last Wish,
Pet Shop Boys,
UT,
Slick Rick,
The Buckinghams,
Unwound,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Moon,
Cymande,
Sexual Harrassment,
Smog,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eden Ahbez,
Deakin,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Morten Harket,
CMW,
Kurtis Blow,
the Fania All-Stars,
Con Funk Shun,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bush Tetras,
The Gladiators,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Black Dice,
The Wake,
Yaz,
Nils Olav,
Magazine,
The Standells,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Groovy Waters,
AZ,
Mandrill,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hot Snakes,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Radio Birdman,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fuzztones,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
DNA,
Stereo Dub,
Second Layer,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Slits,
Kenny Larkin,
Marvin Gaye,
Derrick May,
June of 44,
Spandau Ballet,
The Leaves,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.