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 Egypt and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Neil Young,
Radio Birdman,
The J.B.'s,
In Retrospect,
The Red Krayola,
Dark Day,
Jeff Lynne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
These Immortal Souls,
Cymande,
The Doors,
Danielle Patucci,
Gregory Isaacs,
Althea and Donna,
Talk Talk,
Vainqueur,
ABBA,
Lou Reed,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Clear Light,
Heaven 17,
X-101,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gong,
Magma,
Guru Guru,
Donald Byrd,
Cheater Slicks,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Womack,
The United States of America,
Sun City Girls,
The Black Dice,
Sällskapet,
Toni Rubio,
Lyres,
Zapp,
Gang Green,
Dawn Penn,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Invisible,
Roy Ayers,
Tubeway Army,
FM Einheit,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cameo,
Idris Muhammad,
ABC,
Janne Schatter,
Scratch Acid,
The Motions,
Public Image Ltd.,
Carl Craig,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Quando Quango,
Agent Orange,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.