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 Mauritius and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Idris Muhammad to the electroclash 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Pulsallama,
Urselle,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Symarip,
Janne Schatter,
Outsiders,
the Germs,
Hoover,
Letta Mbulu,
Sixth Finger,
The Toasters,
Kurtis Blow,
Curtis Mayfield,
Supertramp,
Connie Case,
Susan Cadogan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Black Pus,
the Slits,
Shuggie Otis,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mad Mike,
Alison Limerick,
Black Flag,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dead Boys,
Trumans Water,
Frankie Knuckles,
T. Rex,
Kaleidoscope,
Rites of Spring,
Kerrie Biddell,
Desert Stars,
Bill Wells,
Talk Talk,
Eden Ahbez,
The Saints,
Guru Guru,
Stiv Bators,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fall,
U.S. Maple,
Liliput,
The Walker Brothers,
Eric Dolphy,
Anakelly,
Nico,
Scan 7,
James White and The Blacks,
Second Layer,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jimmy McGriff,
Basic Channel,
Crash Course in Science,
Junior Murvin,
KRS-One,
The Birthday Party,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Animal Collective,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang Starr,
FM Einheit,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.