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 Uganda and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Move to the techno 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
KRS-One,
The Offenders,
the Human League,
Moby Grape,
Livin' Joy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The American Breed,
Dark Day,
The Birthday Party,
Arab on Radar,
Blancmange,
Swell Maps,
Don Cherry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pussy Galore,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Victims,
Agitation Free,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Saints,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barclay James Harvest,
Panda Bear,
Carl Craig,
U.S. Maple,
MDC,
the Association,
Minnie Riperton,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Todd Rundgren,
New Order,
Sexual Harrassment,
Man Parrish,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Names,
E-Dancer,
Ronan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Q65,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The J.B.'s,
Fela Kuti,
Scott Walker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Loose Ends,
Jacques Brel,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Soul II Soul,
Cymande,
Brothers Johnson,
Joy Division,
Yazoo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Byrd,
John Foxx,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.