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 South Sudan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cowsills to the grime 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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ossler,
Q65,
Traffic Nightmare,
The American Breed,
the Normal,
T.S.O.L.,
Maleditus Sound,
48th St. Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David McCallum,
Eli Mardock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lou Christie,
Max Romeo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Heaven 17,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harmonia,
Ice-T,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fad Gadget,
Kaleidoscope,
Prince Buster,
Robert Hood,
La Düsseldorf,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Blues Magoos,
Vainqueur,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Raincoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Stooges,
Scientists,
Quantec,
Tommy Roe,
the Slits,
Andrew Hill,
Crime,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Angels of Light,
Section 25,
Harry Pussy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Fania All-Stars,
K-Klass,
New Order,
Porter Ricks,
Delon & Dalcan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
MC5,
Pet Shop Boys,
Hardrive,
The Martian,
Crash Course in Science,
Kerri Chandler,
Laurel Aitken,
The Searchers,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.