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 Mauritius and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jeru the Damaja to the techno 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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Accadde A,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fatback Band,
Sex Pistols,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Smoke,
David Axelrod,
The Count Five,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Steve Hackett,
Infiniti,
Fluxion,
Motorama,
Chris & Cosey,
Sugar Minott,
The Mojo Men,
AZ,
Simply Red,
Quadrant,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Average White Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Womack,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Zeros,
Audionom,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Junior Murvin,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brass Construction,
Pierre Henry,
DJ Style,
Ohio Players,
Flamin' Groovies,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Skarface,
Marc Almond,
Chris Corsano,
Fear,
Sight & Sound,
The Monks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Trumans Water,
The Cure,
R.M.O.,
Ornette Coleman,
Spoonie Gee,
Minny Pops,
Black Pus,
Donald Byrd,
Cybotron,
Jeff Lynne,
Livin' Joy,
Dual Sessions,
Nick Fraelich,
Lyres,
The Fortunes,
The Index,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.