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 Bangladesh and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Shuggie Otis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
H. Thieme,
Magma,
Leonard Cohen,
Robert Hood,
EPMD,
Aural Exciters,
Public Enemy,
David Axelrod,
Absolute Body Control,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Victims,
The Saints,
Bill Wells,
Slick Rick,
The Monochrome Set,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cecil Taylor,
Ice-T,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
June of 44,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Standells,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Michelle Simonal,
Rakim,
Davy DMX,
Fort Wilson Riot,
LL Cool J,
Japan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Residents,
Flamin' Groovies,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pussy Galore,
B.T. Express,
Interpol,
Crispy Ambulance,
Toni Rubio,
The Velvet Underground,
Connie Case,
Sound Behaviour,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fortunes,
Bauhaus,
Chris Corsano,
Wasted Youth,
Kevin Saunderson,
Amon Düül,
Lou Christie,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Moby Grape,
Max Romeo,
Mars,
The Cure,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.