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 Dominican Republic and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 DJ Sneak to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
Brick,
The J.B.'s,
Newcleus,
The Mojo Men,
Traffic Nightmare,
Chrome,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Blackbyrds,
Slave,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pet Shop Boys,
Anakelly,
Eve St. Jones,
The Skatalites,
Harry Pussy,
Tres Demented,
Soft Machine,
Anthony Braxton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hot Snakes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Essential Logic,
Arcadia,
Angry Samoans,
CMW,
Lyres,
Steve Hackett,
Echospace,
Interpol,
Robert Wyatt,
Supertramp,
The Litter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Qualms,
Janne Schatter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Juan Atkins,
Mad Mike,
The Real Kids,
Wasted Youth,
Minny Pops,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Stooges,
Agent Orange,
Shuggie Otis,
Morten Harket,
The Slits,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kerri Chandler,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sandy B,
Leonard Cohen,
Grandmaster Flash,
Alice Coltrane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Y Pants,
Boz Scaggs,
These Immortal Souls,
KRS-One,
Loose Ends,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.