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 Spain and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Fugazi to the grime 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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Urselle,
The Happenings,
Hot Snakes,
Smog,
The Dead C,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Electric Prunes,
Animal Collective,
Harmonia,
Franke,
Drive Like Jehu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Angels of Light,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Germs,
The Searchers,
The United States of America,
8 Eyed Spy,
Essential Logic,
Bob Dylan,
The Moody Blues,
Porter Ricks,
Babytalk,
Eli Mardock,
Arab on Radar,
Angry Samoans,
Jesper Dahlback,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marcia Griffiths,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tres Demented,
Prince Buster,
Chrome,
Gabor Szabo,
Marine Girls,
Janne Schatter,
Wolf Eyes,
The Pretty Things,
Davy DMX,
R.M.O.,
Cheater Slicks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Andrew Hill,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dark Day,
Ronan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Smiths,
The Fortunes,
Infiniti,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Bar-Kays,
Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
B.T. Express,
Jacques Brel,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mission of Burma,
Johnny Clarke,
Albert Ayler,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.