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 Bangladesh and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare 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 Donny Hathaway to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Trumans Water,
Sex Pistols,
Jawbox,
Brand Nubian,
Panda Bear,
Mo-Dettes,
Rekid,
Mars,
X-102,
The Offenders,
Fat Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Blues Magoos,
OOIOO,
One Last Wish,
The American Breed,
Arab on Radar,
Rufus Thomas,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Almond,
The Gun Club,
Average White Band,
B.T. Express,
Wally Richardson,
The Star Department,
The Victims,
The Sound,
Make Up,
Massinfluence,
Fela Kuti,
Jeff Mills,
John Holt,
Faraquet,
kango's stein massive,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sam Rivers,
Whodini,
The Detroit Cobras,
Glambeats Corp.,
Idris Muhammad,
Jerry's Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
Johnny Clarke,
The Zeros,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Cowsills,
Davy DMX,
Hasil Adkins,
Kas Product,
Terry Callier,
Rosa Yemen,
Model 500,
The Residents,
Bob Dylan,
Theoretical Girls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Toasters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.