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 Denmark and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 theremin 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 Blossom Toes to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Talk Talk,
Fela Kuti,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nico,
Soulsonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
Jawbox,
Inner City,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
OOIOO,
Andrew Hill,
X-102,
Blake Baxter,
A Certain Ratio,
Sixth Finger,
Absolute Body Control,
Slick Rick,
FM Einheit,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Fortunes,
The Red Krayola,
Peter and Kerry,
Pole,
Lakeside,
Kas Product,
Sexual Harrassment,
Khruangbin,
Brand Nubian,
Roger Hodgson,
Brass Construction,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Remains,
Skriet,
F. McDonald,
Jacques Brel,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Grauzone,
Thee Headcoats,
James White and The Blacks,
Ice-T,
Altered Images,
Los Fastidios,
Lebanon Hanover,
Oneida,
Charles Mingus,
China Crisis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Prince Buster,
Simply Red,
This Heat,
Dennis Brown,
Clear Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Trojans,
Rosa Yemen,
DNA,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.