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 Somalia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 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 The Move to the jazz 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Barracudas,
Nils Olav,
The Golliwogs,
Black Bananas,
Johnny Osbourne,
Robert Hood,
Easy Going,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pantytec,
Curtis Mayfield,
Can,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pole,
Tubeway Army,
D'Angelo,
Ponytail,
The Star Department,
Robert Görl,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eli Mardock,
Todd Rundgren,
The Moody Blues,
Faust,
Wasted Youth,
The Moleskins,
The Fuzztones,
The Walker Brothers,
The Gories,
The Fortunes,
The Invisible,
Sonny Sharrock,
Theoretical Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Tom Boy,
Agitation Free,
Pharoah Sanders,
One Last Wish,
Brand Nubian,
Pierre Henry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eric Dolphy,
Q65,
Lungfish,
Johnny Clarke,
Urselle,
John Lydon,
Livin' Joy,
Gang Gang Dance,
David McCallum,
The Smoke,
Howard Jones,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Sheep,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Leonard Cohen,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.