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 Switzerland and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Slave,
Ituana,
The Last Poets,
Chrome,
New Order,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gong,
Supertramp,
These Immortal Souls,
Oneida,
the Association,
The Fuzztones,
Motorama,
Reagan Youth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aaron Thompson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Throbbing Gristle,
kango's stein massive,
The Offenders,
Excepter,
Flipper,
Kerri Chandler,
Wire,
Procol Harum,
Amazonics,
Harry Pussy,
Sandy B,
The Evens,
Glenn Branca,
Stereo Dub,
The Tremeloes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Human League,
Public Enemy,
Mary Jane Girls,
China Crisis,
Blake Baxter,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nico,
Piero Umiliani,
Fear,
Barry Ungar,
Roy Ayers,
Brand Nubian,
Max Romeo,
Eli Mardock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Severed Heads,
Alton Ellis,
Popol Vuh,
The Fall,
Cal Tjader,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun City Girls,
Animal Collective,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.