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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the electroclash 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Move,
Tim Buckley,
Thompson Twins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
U.S. Maple,
Rotary Connection,
The Smoke,
Silicon Teens,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lou Christie,
Monks,
Pierre Henry,
Peter & Gordon,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ludus,
Carl Craig,
Eric Copeland,
Stetsasonic,
Cymande,
The Martian,
The Remains,
Can,
Wally Richardson,
Radio Birdman,
E-Dancer,
DNA,
Sarah Menescal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tears for Fears,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Vogues,
Josef K,
Smog,
Minor Threat,
Roger Hodgson,
Isaac Hayes,
Chrome,
Quando Quango,
Erykah Badu,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Swans,
The Leaves,
Porter Ricks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Severed Heads,
Mo-Dettes,
Sandy B,
Country Teasers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Anakelly,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.