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 Lesotho and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 snare 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 The Sound to the rap 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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Ultra Naté,
Blancmange,
Niagra,
The Names,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Icehouse,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rakim,
The American Breed,
The Grass Roots,
ABBA,
Bobby Sherman,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Gun Club,
Amazonics,
Jacques Brel,
Quando Quango,
Donny Hathaway,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funkadelic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fela Kuti,
Lindisfarne,
U.S. Maple,
Sex Pistols,
Deepchord,
The Durutti Column,
Arab on Radar,
Swans,
Pylon,
The Velvet Underground,
Wire,
Grey Daturas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fugazi,
Todd Terry,
Stereo Dub,
Jeff Mills,
Peter & Gordon,
Don Cherry,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Flipper,
Rotary Connection,
Mars,
Groovy Waters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ludus,
Blossom Toes,
Ossler,
Desert Stars,
Essential Logic,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Görl,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
H. Thieme,
The Fortunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Slits,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.