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 Tajikistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 DJ Style to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Cybotron,
Symarip,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
FM Einheit,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mo-Dettes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Bar-Kays,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kurtis Blow,
Dual Sessions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Byron Stingily,
Liliput,
The Seeds,
Pere Ubu,
Letta Mbulu,
Slave,
D'Angelo,
Patti Smith,
Spoonie Gee,
Suburban Knight,
Tomorrow,
Q65,
Wolf Eyes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
These Immortal Souls,
Royal Trux,
the Soft Cell,
Vladislav Delay,
Altered Images,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Nik Kershaw,
Sex Pistols,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
Can,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pierre Henry,
The Human League,
Steve Hackett,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boredoms,
Fear,
Robert Görl,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang of Four,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
L. Decosne,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Beau Brummels,
Pantytec,
Jeru the Damaja,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.