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 Bhutan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the funk 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Excepter,
Pylon,
The Remains,
Mark Hollis,
Peter and Kerry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Adolescents,
ABBA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Selecter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Das Ding,
Nick Fraelich,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Beau Brummels,
Interpol,
Little Man,
Rosa Yemen,
Alice Coltrane,
Sight & Sound,
Schoolly D,
Monolake,
Gichy Dan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Au Pairs,
Glenn Branca,
Tropical Tobacco,
James Chance & The Contortions,
PIL,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
John Lydon,
Davy DMX,
Roy Ayers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Michelle Simonal,
Visage,
Godley & Creme,
Sonny Sharrock,
Traffic Nightmare,
Theoretical Girls,
Cecil Taylor,
AZ,
Delta 5,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lucky Dragons,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Althea and Donna,
Silicon Teens,
Porter Ricks,
Suburban Knight,
Rekid,
The Golliwogs,
Laurel Aitken,
Kayak,
Thompson Twins,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.