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 Malaysia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 Mighty Diamonds to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Johnny Clarke,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Marine Girls,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ken Boothe,
Nick Fraelich,
The Pop Group,
The Names,
Con Funk Shun,
Mo-Dettes,
Piero Umiliani,
The Index,
Quadrant,
The Red Krayola,
Chris & Cosey,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Don Cherry,
Suicide,
Fluxion,
Adolescents,
Chris Corsano,
Dawn Penn,
The Smoke,
Qualms,
Wally Richardson,
The Misunderstood,
The Remains,
Fatback Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Oblivians,
Morten Harket,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultra Naté,
Sandy B,
Malaria!,
Danielle Patucci,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Dead C,
Trumans Water,
Black Flag,
Tom Boy,
Letta Mbulu,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Spoonie Gee,
Archie Shepp,
Vainqueur,
The Motions,
Byron Stingily,
The Pretty Things,
Tommy Roe,
The Sonics,
Howard Jones,
The Five Americans,
Bluetip,
The Martian,
Deakin,
Agitation Free,
Hoover,
Stockholm Monsters,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.