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 Spain and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tom Boy,
Sällskapet,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Connie Case,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Real Kids,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Accadde A,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rufus Thomas,
The Move,
The Smiths,
Idris Muhammad,
Leonard Cohen,
Nils Olav,
Deadbeat,
The Human League,
DNA,
Sonic Youth,
Rites of Spring,
The New Christs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ultravox,
Desert Stars,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fuzztones,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
Marine Girls,
The Moleskins,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sound Behaviour,
Little Man,
Television Personalities,
Tears for Fears,
Suburban Knight,
Moby Grape,
Lucky Dragons,
Josef K,
Sister Nancy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eric Copeland,
Reuben Wilson,
Sam Rivers,
Colin Newman,
Wasted Youth,
Sugar Minott,
Sparks,
Rod Modell,
Massinfluence,
Harry Pussy,
Aswad,
U.S. Maple,
The Gap Band,
Average White Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Theoretical Girls,
Basic Channel,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.