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 Swaziland and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro 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 Cecil Taylor to the rap 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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Sly & The Family Stone,
T. Rex,
Faust,
AZ,
Monks,
Los Fastidios,
Dave Gahan,
Yazoo,
New Order,
Soul II Soul,
The Associates,
Man Parrish,
Sparks,
The Human League,
Saccharine Trust,
Hot Snakes,
Qualms,
Suicide,
The Searchers,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Görl,
Inner City,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mr. Review,
The Busters,
Bill Near,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scan 7,
Panda Bear,
Deadbeat,
Cybotron,
Wasted Youth,
Accadde A,
The Last Poets,
The Gories,
Swell Maps,
Pere Ubu,
Zapp,
Howard Jones,
The Fire Engines,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Real Kids,
Trumans Water,
Lower 48,
Joe Finger,
The Remains,
Mars,
Ultravox,
Carl Craig,
Newcleus,
The Slits,
Crime,
Piero Umiliani,
Swans,
Susan Cadogan,
Radio Birdman,
Donald Byrd,
DNA,
Arthur Verocai,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.