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 Malaysia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Darondo to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
The Gories,
The Knickerbockers,
A Certain Ratio,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Germs,
The Busters,
cv313,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Man Parrish,
Barrington Levy,
Matthew Bourne,
The Grass Roots,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Swans,
Sun Ra,
Peter and Kerry,
Isaac Hayes,
Angry Samoans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Al Stewart,
Quando Quango,
The Searchers,
Unrelated Segments,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Guru Guru,
Bad Manners,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Zapp,
Vladislav Delay,
The New Christs,
Eric Copeland,
Neil Young,
Marmalade,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alphaville,
Jawbox,
Babytalk,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gichy Dan,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Archie Shepp,
Eurythmics,
Reuben Wilson,
The Five Americans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dark Day,
Skarface,
Massinfluence,
These Immortal Souls,
Swell Maps,
T.S.O.L.,
The Golliwogs,
the Sonics,
Audionom,
the Normal,
The Litter,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.