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 Somalia and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Junior Murvin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
The Five Americans,
Minnie Riperton,
Kenny Larkin,
Agent Orange,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
X-102,
The Names,
The Divine Comedy,
The Busters,
U.S. Maple,
Fatback Band,
Brass Construction,
Quando Quango,
The Residents,
Aaron Thompson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Almond,
The Martian,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Blossom Toes,
Oneida,
Soul II Soul,
Amon Düül,
Bronski Beat,
Pulsallama,
The Sonics,
Masters at Work,
Depeche Mode,
Make Up,
Oblivians,
Newcleus,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Pus,
Janne Schatter,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Foxx,
Symarip,
Kerri Chandler,
Eve St. Jones,
Iggy Pop,
Cluster,
Aural Exciters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Flag,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sarah Menescal,
The Cowsills,
Groovy Waters,
The Cure,
Terry Callier,
Jesper Dahlback,
Quadrant,
A Certain Ratio,
Pantytec,
Television,
X-Ray Spex,
Kurtis Blow,
Cymande,
Brand Nubian,
Aswad,
The American Breed,
Swans,
Don Cherry,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.