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 Cameroon and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Flesh Eaters to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Litter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Motorama,
E-Dancer,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Deakin,
The Human League,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Absolute Body Control,
The Durutti Column,
Howard Jones,
Ponytail,
The Black Dice,
The Dirtbombs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pet Shop Boys,
KRS-One,
Byron Stingily,
Crispian St. Peters,
Vainqueur,
Slick Rick,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kerri Chandler,
Bad Manners,
Sister Nancy,
The Mojo Men,
Wolf Eyes,
Aloha Tigers,
Ronnie Foster,
Don Cherry,
Eurythmics,
Bush Tetras,
Neil Young,
Bobby Womack,
Roy Ayers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nick Fraelich,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Amon Düül,
Make Up,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cluster,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Index,
Neu!,
Hardrive,
The Golliwogs,
Qualms,
Hot Snakes,
the Bar-Kays,
Rites of Spring,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Theoretical Girls,
K-Klass,
Bizarre Inc.,
FM Einheit,
The Grass Roots,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.