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 Djibouti and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Nico to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
D'Angelo,
T.S.O.L.,
The Busters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Josef K,
Desert Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
Peter & Gordon,
Make Up,
Lakeside,
Slave,
Barry Ungar,
Hashim,
The Mummies,
Echospace,
Fela Kuti,
Moss Icon,
Drexciya,
Jeff Lynne,
the Fania All-Stars,
These Immortal Souls,
Piero Umiliani,
John Holt,
Aaron Thompson,
La Düsseldorf,
Neu!,
Fatback Band,
Erykah Badu,
The Offenders,
John Coltrane,
Index,
Monolake,
Glambeats Corp.,
Andrew Hill,
The Last Poets,
ABBA,
Don Cherry,
Altered Images,
Davy DMX,
Niagra,
Gregory Isaacs,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris & Cosey,
Ronan,
Depeche Mode,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Electric Prunes,
Oneida,
Sonic Youth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Flag,
Unrelated Segments,
E-Dancer,
OOIOO,
Erasure,
Accadde A,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.