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 Egypt and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Outsiders to the grime 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Slave,
the Human League,
John Coltrane,
The New Christs,
Make Up,
Hoover,
Johnny Clarke,
Amon Düül,
Anakelly,
The Gories,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
The Invisible,
Alison Limerick,
The Fortunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sex Pistols,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Niagra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
K-Klass,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
ABC,
Matthew Bourne,
The Trojans,
New Age Steppers,
Bluetip,
Ornette Coleman,
Jandek,
Panda Bear,
Arab on Radar,
Warren Ellis,
The Zeros,
The Human League,
Stiv Bators,
a-ha,
Marine Girls,
DJ Sneak,
the Slits,
Quando Quango,
Faust,
John Foxx,
Mark Hollis,
Bill Wells,
Black Bananas,
The Wake,
Desert Stars,
Stetsasonic,
Bill Near,
48th St. Collective,
Cheater Slicks,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fire Engines,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Brass Construction,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Normal,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.