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 Uzbekistan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Cairo.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Depeche Mode to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gories. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Darondo,
Ludus,
Tomorrow,
Kerri Chandler,
Jeff Mills,
The Fuzztones,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Slits,
Sandy B,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
JFA,
L. Decosne,
Buzzcocks,
The Beau Brummels,
FM Einheit,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Simply Red,
Quadrant,
Moebius,
The Zeros,
The Dead C,
Scrapy,
Sugar Minott,
Chrome,
Pulsallama,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Martian,
Jandek,
Oneida,
Bill Wells,
Fat Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bizarre Inc.,
Loose Ends,
Adolescents,
Ralphi Rosario,
Warsaw,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amazonics,
The Index,
Echospace,
Tim Buckley,
Guru Guru,
the Sonics,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eddi Front,
Sun City Girls,
Y Pants,
Flipper,
Surgeon,
Q65,
Ossler,
Roxette,
MDC,
Deepchord,
Skriet,
Radiohead,
Suburban Knight,
Dave Gahan,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.