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 Macedonia 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Monks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every LL Cool J record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Rosa Yemen,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kas Product,
Newcleus,
Goldenarms,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Max Romeo,
Unrelated Segments,
Fluxion,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Move,
Brand Nubian,
Cluster,
Iggy Pop,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fortunes,
Massinfluence,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Germs,
The Blues Magoos,
the Swans,
Khruangbin,
Letta Mbulu,
Kenny Larkin,
Pierre Henry,
Tomorrow,
Inner City,
Hot Snakes,
Sugar Minott,
Crooked Eye,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultra Naté,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scrapy,
Babytalk,
Don Cherry,
Lalo Schifrin,
Index,
Gabor Szabo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wolf Eyes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Absolute Body Control,
Sällskapet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Black Pus,
Glenn Branca,
The Cowsills,
Bill Wells,
Japan,
Guru Guru,
Slave,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nico,
Tres Demented,
Lindisfarne,
Easy Going,
Scion,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.