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 Czech Republic and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Skatalites to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Pierre Henry,
June Days,
Cecil Taylor,
Cybotron,
Brand Nubian,
Curtis Mayfield,
Monks,
Minutemen,
Y Pants,
The Count Five,
Warren Ellis,
One Last Wish,
Yellowson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pylon,
D'Angelo,
Tom Boy,
Dual Sessions,
Bluetip,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Angels of Light,
48th St. Collective,
Barbara Tucker,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Motorama,
Stetsasonic,
Alphaville,
The Real Kids,
Fugazi,
Liliput,
Groovy Waters,
cv313,
Dorothy Ashby,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Deakin,
Jacques Brel,
Qualms,
Josef K,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Blackbyrds,
Niagra,
Marine Girls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Clear Light,
T. Rex,
a-ha,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bang On A Can,
Theoretical Girls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Chrome,
Pagans,
Youth Brigade,
Kurtis Blow,
Yusef Lateef,
Quando Quango,
Khruangbin,
Skaos,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sällskapet,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.