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 Korea North and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe 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 Bobby Byrd to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
the Human League,
Bill Wells,
Donald Byrd,
The Gun Club,
The Angels of Light,
Faraquet,
Pole,
The Pop Group,
Mantronix,
Japan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Desert Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Fat Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
The Count Five,
Eve St. Jones,
Idris Muhammad,
Youth Brigade,
Smog,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Interpol,
The Sonics,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang Green,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Half Japanese,
Todd Rundgren,
David Bowie,
Television Personalities,
Slave,
Warsaw,
Rhythm & Sound,
Minutemen,
Guru Guru,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lakeside,
48th St. Collective,
The Beau Brummels,
Mad Mike,
The Slits,
Ten City,
Trumans Water,
Motorama,
Scrapy,
The Sound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Second Layer,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Cameo,
Monolake,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.