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 Costa Rica and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pole to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Bang On A Can,
Sonic Youth,
Nirvana,
The Angels of Light,
The Blues Magoos,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Selecter,
Ice-T,
Japan,
Dual Sessions,
Derrick Morgan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Stiv Bators,
Mission of Burma,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Susan Cadogan,
The Slits,
A Certain Ratio,
the Slits,
Bobby Byrd,
The Beau Brummels,
Yaz,
X-101,
The Moleskins,
Peter and Kerry,
Drexciya,
F. McDonald,
The Real Kids,
Joyce Sims,
The Seeds,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Frankie Knuckles,
Moss Icon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
June Days,
Roger Hodgson,
Gang Green,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cybotron,
Urselle,
AZ,
The Standells,
Alice Coltrane,
Aswad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Tremeloes,
B.T. Express,
The Remains,
Arab on Radar,
Niagra,
Gang of Four,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Underground Resistance,
Soft Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
The Grass Roots,
Letta Mbulu,
Todd Terry,
Erasure,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Porter Ricks,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.