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 Lebanon 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the crunk 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Spoonie Gee,
Mars,
The Dead C,
The Invisible,
Gil Scott Heron,
Severed Heads,
Flash Fearless,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The New Christs,
F. McDonald,
Alphaville,
Metal Thangz,
L. Decosne,
Lou Christie,
the Slits,
Susan Cadogan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Sheep,
Barbara Tucker,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eve St. Jones,
Stetsasonic,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
KRS-One,
Sam Rivers,
Funky Four + One,
One Last Wish,
Absolute Body Control,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mission of Burma,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
K-Klass,
Excepter,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terrestrial Tones,
Basic Channel,
Masters at Work,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Blues Magoos,
The Offenders,
The Techniques,
Q65,
Accadde A,
Rotary Connection,
David Bowie,
Newcleus,
Mandrill,
Dark Day,
Ralphi Rosario,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.