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 Mali and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba 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 Idris Muhammad to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Danielle Patucci 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
8 Eyed Spy,
Index,
Bill Near,
the Soft Cell,
The Slits,
Bobby Womack,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
MDC,
The Divine Comedy,
Faust,
Quadrant,
Fatback Band,
Blake Baxter,
The Real Kids,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hasil Adkins,
Letta Mbulu,
Jacob Miller,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Invisible,
Organ,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Schoolly D,
ABBA,
Jandek,
The Index,
The Victims,
Marshall Jefferson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Henry Cow,
Mark Hollis,
Rapeman,
Joensuu 1685,
The Motions,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bang On A Can,
H. Thieme,
Matthew Bourne,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marvin Gaye,
Ten City,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crime,
The Evens,
New Age Steppers,
Rekid,
Freddie Wadling,
Q65,
Von Mondo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Saints,
The Mojo Men,
Steve Hackett,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Monolake,
Lyres,
Robert Hood,
Pagans,
Leonard Cohen,
Crispy Ambulance,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.