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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 clarinet 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 Connie Case to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fad Gadget,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bad Manners,
Royal Trux,
Black Moon,
The Cure,
The Barracudas,
Crash Course in Science,
Eurythmics,
Main Source,
KRS-One,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cymande,
The Mummies,
Country Teasers,
Schoolly D,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Hasil Adkins,
the Slits,
Heaven 17,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dave Clark Five,
Wings,
Section 25,
Sixth Finger,
Urselle,
Kurtis Blow,
48th St. Collective,
Ronnie Foster,
Flipper,
Blossom Toes,
The Offenders,
The Black Dice,
Au Pairs,
David Bowie,
Banda Bassotti,
The Monks,
Tomorrow,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pole,
The Seeds,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Radio Birdman,
The Names,
Robert Wyatt,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dead Boys,
FM Einheit,
10cc,
Bobby Sherman,
Can,
DJ Style,
Reagan Youth,
Intrusion,
Wire,
Interpol,
Jeff Lynne,
Pussy Galore,
The Gladiators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.