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 Ethiopia and from Stockholm.
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 Edmonton and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 T.S.O.L. to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aural Exciters,
H. Thieme,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-101,
Robert Görl,
Pierre Henry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barry Ungar,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Delta 5,
Black Sheep,
Albert Ayler,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
Radio Birdman,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Henry Cow,
Dark Day,
Shuggie Otis,
Letta Mbulu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jawbox,
Heaven 17,
Joensuu 1685,
Mantronix,
10cc,
Accadde A,
New York Dolls,
Ossler,
Guru Guru,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DJ Style,
Cameo,
The Golliwogs,
The United States of America,
Lakeside,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ohio Players,
Monolake,
Lalann,
Qualms,
Grey Daturas,
Alice Coltrane,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pulsallama,
Marc Almond,
Barbara Tucker,
Niagra,
Lindisfarne,
Rakim,
The Index,
F. McDonald,
The Blues Magoos,
Pylon,
Carl Craig,
K-Klass,
The Music Machine,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.