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 San Marino and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Maleditus Sound to the grime 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Severed Heads,
Circle Jerks,
Rapeman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Black Bananas,
Gichy Dan,
The Gladiators,
Essential Logic,
Wings,
The Busters,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lalann,
Inner City,
Funkadelic,
Bush Tetras,
Boredoms,
Supertramp,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Green,
Smog,
Fugazi,
Barrington Levy,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Davy DMX,
Roxette,
Pantaleimon,
The Tremeloes,
The Leaves,
The Move,
Stereo Dub,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ituana,
Nation of Ulysses,
David Bowie,
Aloha Tigers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lee Hazlewood,
Andrew Hill,
Swell Maps,
The Wake,
Y Pants,
Public Image Ltd.,
Nas,
Stiv Bators,
Duran Duran,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sonics,
Gregory Isaacs,
Heaven 17,
These Immortal Souls,
Marvin Gaye,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Alison Limerick,
The Fugs,
Urselle,
JFA,
Matthew Bourne,
Kerri Chandler,
Scott Walker,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.