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 Mauritius and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Nick Fraelich to the grime 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Blues Magoos,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Misunderstood,
The Remains,
Simply Red,
Fluxion,
Toni Rubio,
A Certain Ratio,
48th St. Collective,
David Axelrod,
Nik Kershaw,
Bad Manners,
The Count Five,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Neu!,
Harmonia,
The Mojo Men,
Lucky Dragons,
Q65,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Monochrome Set,
Fear,
The Busters,
Crime,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Selecter,
The Sonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Flipper,
Barry Ungar,
Man Parrish,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
Minor Threat,
Deepchord,
Hoover,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Susan Cadogan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Invisible,
Basic Channel,
Franke,
Moebius,
Howard Jones,
The Birthday Party,
Stetsasonic,
Drexciya,
Matthew Bourne,
The Wake,
Jandek,
Blossom Toes,
Cluster,
Junior Murvin,
Soft Cell,
Gregory Isaacs,
Freddie Wadling,
The Evens,
Niagra,
Boogie Down Productions,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.