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 Jamaica and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare 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 Boogie Down Productions to the electroclash 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Fatback Band,
Man Parrish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Josef K,
Little Man,
Charles Mingus,
The Gun Club,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lower 48,
Warren Ellis,
The Buckinghams,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Iggy Pop,
Alice Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sound Behaviour,
Pantytec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Offenders,
Kas Product,
Scratch Acid,
Vainqueur,
The Mojo Men,
Fad Gadget,
Desert Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
Faraquet,
Jeff Mills,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ludus,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pretty Things,
Boz Scaggs,
the Association,
The Angels of Light,
cv313,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scientists,
Kerrie Biddell,
La Düsseldorf,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T.S.O.L.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Organ,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Standells,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
The United States of America,
Half Japanese,
Big Daddy Kane,
Chris & Cosey,
Henry Cow,
the Swans,
Aswad,
Stiv Bators,
KRS-One,
The Monks,
Moby Grape,
Monks,
June of 44,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.