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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 DNA to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb 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 organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pierre Henry,
Junior Murvin,
Chrome,
Soft Cell,
Ralphi Rosario,
Donny Hathaway,
Jandek,
Bootsy Collins,
Darondo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Terrestrial Tones,
Warsaw,
Eddi Front,
Ten City,
Lucky Dragons,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lightning Bolt,
Nas,
Juan Atkins,
Panda Bear,
Joyce Sims,
Roy Ayers,
Thompson Twins,
Roxy Music,
The Mummies,
Bad Manners,
Maleditus Sound,
Agitation Free,
Ronan,
a-ha,
The Cowsills,
Tres Demented,
Yazoo,
Sixth Finger,
DNA,
The Raincoats,
Althea and Donna,
The Divine Comedy,
The Sonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aural Exciters,
Ponytail,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sandy B,
The Moody Blues,
Funky Four + One,
These Immortal Souls,
Tropical Tobacco,
KRS-One,
The Young Rascals,
Connie Case,
Jacques Brel,
DJ Sneak,
Ohio Players,
The New Christs,
Young Marble Giants,
In Retrospect,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.