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 Japan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 theremin 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Techniques,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Johnny Clarke,
Kool Moe Dee,
Crash Course in Science,
The J.B.'s,
LL Cool J,
Junior Murvin,
Pylon,
Con Funk Shun,
Slave,
The Litter,
Organ,
Alphaville,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harry Pussy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Unwound,
Marmalade,
Von Mondo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Victims,
Rapeman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Sonics,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eric Dolphy,
Stetsasonic,
Second Layer,
Monolake,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jawbox,
Sexual Harrassment,
Half Japanese,
The Cowsills,
Whodini,
Matthew Halsall,
The Grass Roots,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Terrestrial Tones,
K-Klass,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
Moss Icon,
Roxette,
Boogie Down Productions,
Henry Cow,
Eyeless In Gaza,
OOIOO,
Livin' Joy,
Jeru the Damaja,
8 Eyed Spy,
Los Fastidios,
Michelle Simonal,
Brass Construction,
cv313,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.