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 South Africa and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gerry Rafferty to the techno 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Hoover,
The Slackers,
The Young Rascals,
Subhumans,
DNA,
Minutemen,
The Remains,
Bang On A Can,
Shoche,
K-Klass,
Skarface,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun City Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Symarip,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Techniques,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Loose Ends,
Underground Resistance,
Kenny Larkin,
Lungfish,
Suicide,
The Trojans,
The Sonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Blues Magoos,
Letta Mbulu,
Cluster,
The Monks,
Rapeman,
Fat Boys,
New Order,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Quantec,
Sight & Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tears for Fears,
Susan Cadogan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Q and Not U,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Standells,
Janne Schatter,
The Names,
Brass Construction,
the Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
Aswad,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Black Dice,
Fela Kuti,
Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mad Mike,
The Blackbyrds,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Piero Umiliani,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.