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 Nicaragua and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Big Daddy Kane to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Con Funk Shun,
Urselle,
Vainqueur,
Deepchord,
The Skatalites,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Standells,
Pantytec,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sister Nancy,
Television Personalities,
Maleditus Sound,
Joensuu 1685,
Dual Sessions,
Porter Ricks,
David Axelrod,
Marine Girls,
Barrington Levy,
Graham Central Station,
Monks,
Reagan Youth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mars,
Infiniti,
Jeff Mills,
Sonny Sharrock,
Massinfluence,
Ossler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gang Gang Dance,
Drive Like Jehu,
Heaven 17,
Au Pairs,
Silicon Teens,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Franke,
The Monks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nils Olav,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sound Behaviour,
Shoche,
June Days,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Charles Mingus,
Hot Snakes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eli Mardock,
The J.B.'s,
Das Ding,
Freddie Wadling,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
John Foxx,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ituana,
Harry Pussy,
Skriet,
Lightning Bolt,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.