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 Guinea-Bissau and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bang On A Can to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Blues Magoos,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Niagra,
Whodini,
The Names,
The American Breed,
Michelle Simonal,
The Durutti Column,
Fatback Band,
The Selecter,
Pagans,
Second Layer,
Marvin Gaye,
X-101,
Loose Ends,
Prince Buster,
Joe Smooth,
The Cure,
Deepchord,
Barclay James Harvest,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tres Demented,
MDC,
Pantytec,
The Birthday Party,
Television,
Minny Pops,
The Searchers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Trumans Water,
The Buckinghams,
Radio Birdman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Masters at Work,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Music Machine,
Excepter,
Chris & Cosey,
Sun City Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Blossom Toes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-102,
David McCallum,
Todd Terry,
Jerry's Kids,
Panda Bear,
The Count Five,
Chris Corsano,
Kayak,
Spandau Ballet,
Outsiders,
Hoover,
Minnie Riperton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sparks,
The Seeds,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.