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 Marshall Islands and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Easy Going to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Organ,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Fall,
the Slits,
Aaron Thompson,
Darondo,
Cymande,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sixth Finger,
L. Decosne,
Aloha Tigers,
Johnny Clarke,
Tres Demented,
Subhumans,
Man Parrish,
Can,
John Coltrane,
The Index,
Dawn Penn,
Circle Jerks,
Fluxion,
La Düsseldorf,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Banda Bassotti,
DJ Style,
Erykah Badu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wally Richardson,
Slave,
Masters at Work,
Spoonie Gee,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Steve Hackett,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Agitation Free,
Parry Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Loose Ends,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
K-Klass,
The Skatalites,
Andrew Hill,
X-Ray Spex,
Mark Hollis,
Minny Pops,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Colin Newman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Durutti Column,
Blancmange,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nas,
Excepter,
A Certain Ratio,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.