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 Zambia and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum 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 The Birthday Party to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Darondo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Depeche Mode,
Todd Rundgren,
Blossom Toes,
Mad Mike,
The Red Krayola,
Pussy Galore,
Ossler,
Soul II Soul,
Pet Shop Boys,
Con Funk Shun,
Sexual Harrassment,
Underground Resistance,
Hashim,
The Blues Magoos,
Carl Craig,
Zero Boys,
Chris Corsano,
Funky Four + One,
Traffic Nightmare,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Blake Baxter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mary Jane Girls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Skaos,
Scott Walker,
Deadbeat,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gichy Dan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Silicon Teens,
Cal Tjader,
Television,
Josef K,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Nirvana,
the Association,
The Zeros,
Rosa Yemen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Accadde A,
Sight & Sound,
Glenn Branca,
The Fall,
The Victims,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Stereo Dub,
Alton Ellis,
The Happenings,
Average White Band,
China Crisis,
X-101,
Soft Cell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Whodini,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.