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 Lebanon and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Steve Hackett to the funk 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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Outsiders,
Charles Mingus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pere Ubu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oblivians,
The Golliwogs,
Jacques Brel,
Guru Guru,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eve St. Jones,
The Move,
Joyce Sims,
Blake Baxter,
Barry Ungar,
K-Klass,
Yaz,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Moon,
Tim Buckley,
Ossler,
Soul Sonic Force,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Inner City,
Yellowson,
Accadde A,
Laurel Aitken,
The J.B.'s,
Pole,
Judy Mowatt,
Colin Newman,
Procol Harum,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Monks,
Thompson Twins,
Amon Düül,
The Gap Band,
Radiohead,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ponytail,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mo-Dettes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
New Order,
Ice-T,
Rekid,
Echospace,
Livin' Joy,
The Happenings,
Minor Threat,
The Smiths,
Gregory Isaacs,
Amazonics,
Visage,
Eden Ahbez,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
Cluster,
The Black Dice,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.