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 Bolivia and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the electroclash 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Moebius,
ABBA,
Lungfish,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Japan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Brick,
Josef K,
The Names,
10cc,
Black Sheep,
Graham Central Station,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeff Lynne,
Harry Pussy,
The Barracudas,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Walker Brothers,
Sun Ra,
The Seeds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sixth Finger,
Urselle,
Simply Red,
Donald Byrd,
Panda Bear,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Das Ding,
the Human League,
Reagan Youth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Depeche Mode,
Tears for Fears,
Grey Daturas,
Oblivians,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dual Sessions,
Marvin Gaye,
John Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
Idris Muhammad,
Procol Harum,
the Bar-Kays,
Dead Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Icehouse,
Brand Nubian,
Jacques Brel,
The Blues Magoos,
John Cale,
Guru Guru,
John Holt,
Iggy Pop,
Livin' Joy,
Eric Dolphy,
Newcleus,
The Wake,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.